A Coy And Playful

My blood stomps harder on the jade wine,
I go to work on assembly lines,
I sing the song “O Capitalism”,
to make it with your daughter
in fashionable penance.

I forged a ring from my blood slime,
stopped what I eat to get the thin shine.
My calcium was low, protein wasn’t right.
Can I dip into your machine,
Master God?

Possess what you can in your real lives.
Eat value meals, or eat dikes.
Cows in the field chew the utter ripe,
Los Estados Unidos essay kinda neato.

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