Dogs may piss on you, people may chop off bits of you and set fire to them, pimply-faced teenagers (unsure of what to do next but vaguely aware that whatever it is it involves sticking something into something) carve the initials of some other peripubescent human into your trunk with a cheap penknife as an aid memoir for what to do when the penny finally drops.
But mostly you survive and outlive the lot of the smelly little bastards.
This is the wisdom ot the trees.
Listen all you like, but all you'll hear is your own borborigmi.
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Dogs may piss on you, people may chop off bits of you and set fire to them, pimply-faced teenagers (unsure of what to do next but vaguely aware that whatever it is it involves sticking something into something) carve the initials of some other peripubescent human into your trunk with a cheap penknife as an aid memoir for what to do when the penny finally drops.
But mostly you survive and outlive the lot of the smelly little bastards.
This is the wisdom ot the trees.
Listen all you like, but all you'll hear is your own borborigmi.
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