December '61.
my Dad's wages light. Still on that salary we, all four, could sleep tight. Right now if you drank from
too much for too few that I see? The kind of legacy that's tossin' some good men to their knees. maligned concrete cage sits dead and vacant now - at least it kept out rain. With all those corners cut
I don't know nothin' anymore. Tomorrow's legacy that's layin' in state awaits reprieve. you do your best to pick him up. But how can the milk of kindness trickle down when it's syphoned off and cheats the cup? Keith
Karloff
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