The last time we spoke I may have seemed out of focus; maybe due to a swarm of locusts appearing from the northeast. The little devils want to feast on everything in the forest. (I've ended singing a half-tone higher from muddy-pies to sky-eye pies.) There needs no excuse, nothing is obscure; we are already almost past having a cure. We are always simply smart and focused on such flights as these luckless locusts. We are in charge.
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