following the rules puts me futon the street dehydrated, disoriented and my pants around my ankles crawling through the rain face down in the gutter dribbling nonsense to the young man offering his hand to me i don't want to get up i would prefer to stay down then be knocked down again and again who knows i might get used to it and readjust my sense of happiness down here in the gutter i may be happy to die in a ditch at least it would be an honest death
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