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In Cut Throat Lane the chains were swinging. Iron boots with blades on
springs were lancing. Silver dance. The ghetto ballerinas tiptoed,
blasting. Rattlesnake Arena burning red black red black. The gutter
snipeser gasped beneath their melting mask's that kept on smiling. Dead
eyed. Dog's Breath. Choke! Rattlesnake Arena burning red black red black.
The stakes were low, the winner takes a wall to lean on, scrawl his name
on for a night. The story starts again.
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