An hour left to type this out before the plan is a failure and everything sucks. Here it goes.

The following is a poem constructed entirely out of phrases found in my junk mail. Enjoy.

 

Leave her subjects of course.

Replied tiktok.

Added in law of boots.

Lying awake.

Making the child.

Show you received it over them.

Don’t tell her boyfriend,

growled the soldier.

No body.

Be done.

Having no idea of three years.

Too many places, intolerable manner, for himself, wery much of too many places.

Hold hard by this.

Replied tiktok.

Keep them from london.

Contact Mr. Mark Harrison.

It fitted his head.

Replied tiktok.

 

Goodness.

Trust,

took her away to America,

down with the tack.

 

Nobody else is its contests of spirits.

Government doesn’t,

care.

A collapse of,

the diplomats.

Government doesn’t,

care.

 

 

All typos courtesy of the writers of the spam.

 

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