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Kurt Elling
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Dolores Dream
The white, electric skillet of a day threatened to sear us all away - fat frying, spluttering - rank Chicago smeltering along, smothered in heavy, wooly sweat, the city knew a sad regret for staying long in summer's heavy.
No escape. Delirious. So I went subterraneous. Maybe I'd dream about Dolores' kinda' auburn hair
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