Monday, April 30, 2012

Reelin' in the Years

Time flies. Where do the years go? It's a rhetorical question ... or so I thought. I've learned where the years go — they go into sentences where they don't belong. You can try to hide, years, but I found you. What are you — and your little friend a — doing taking cover in this quotation? Such intrusion is unbecoming. I seem to tell you that year in, year out, in fact.

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