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i wouldn't want be romanticised

''They massacred the buffalo
Kitty corner from the bank
The taxis run across my feet
And my eyes have turned to blanks
In my little box at the top of the stairs
With my indian rug and a pipe to share.

I wish a was a trapper
I would give thousand pelts
To sleep with pocahontas
And find out how she felt
In the mornin on the fields of green
In the homeland weve never seen.''
-n.young