The cramped monotony of my existence grinds me away by the grain.
A party is like a sausage machine, it grinds up all sorts of heads together into the same baloney.
Africa is cruel...it takes your heart and grinds it into powdered stone - and no-one minds.
Only in drama does it end with the tragedy; in life it grinds on. Moanday, tearsday, happy days, right through to Shatterdays. And Again.
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