House of Rubber Jupiter Swan

I hate that I speak for you.

I don’t know you. I admit I don’t know you. I don’t know where you are, except to know you are out there, somewhere.

I am out here there, not everywhere, except if my waves, crashing, crushing, thrashing, tsunami radio waves, audio audible video tirades of waves, from Alex Jones trumpeting, bumpeting, a thing going humpety bumpety into that good night,

A trumpeter swan?

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