This is a capital idea for a thread
I sit in my cubicle, here on the motherworld.
When I die, they will put my body in a box and
dispose of it in the cold ground.
And in all the million ages to come, I will never
breathe or laugh or twitch again.
So won't you run and play with me here among the
teeming mass of humanity?
The universe has spared us this moment.
Anonymous
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