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 last year  

Ride ON is different from ride IN. We're not talking tunnel of love, here.

How do you know it's different?

We're not talking tunnel of love, here.

Now I see where this tunnel-mountain fetish comes from. Crystal clear not like drinking beer through a looking glass while half-trashed.

 last year  

What were we talking about, then? If not the tunnel of love, then what? The tunnel of hate?

Who said that? I said that? Or you. Who are you? And why can't you just drink the beer straight from the can like the rest of us forest-dwellers?
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If not the tunnel of love, then what? The tunnel of hate?

Love/hate-black/white squares on the chessboard floor columned door, where I go no more 'cuz I know what's in that store.

Who are you?

Best question to ask is not Who, but What, then give it a follow up of Where without your stare.

And why can't you just drink the beer straight from the can like the rest of us forest-dwellers?

Because I drink the nectar of trees.

 last year  

When?
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If you stop handpuppeting me fangy by the scruff of my neck for a moment I might meowswer.

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 last year  

fin.

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