Contrary to my shop inventory and professed affairs
I’ve never sold rock
That plot’s invented to get them staring
But truths plenty therein
If you can split hairs, no heroin
Still, plenty shares in grows no roses
No guns, but I’m not opposed to blowing
Out someone’s soul, just to see where it goes
Guns on this island more tightly controlled
Than the Green Zone road.
Alchemisland 
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