Where Mountains Meet The Highway

Where the mountains meet the highway, where people are tired and faceless, there’s a little house where smoke grows money. A place that’s sweet and homey, and the forms employed by smoke merge extremely sharp, to stop from getting lost.

Sharp parts extremely urgent merge with smoke employed farms and the home, a sweetened place; with some money, smoke grows where houses face tired people, where the highway meets the mountains and they find themselves lonely

lost and becoming themselves the mountains and the highway find their people faceless, housing smoke’s growing money. Some place a sweet home in the farm employed smoke-merge, urgently, extreme parts, sharp and lonely

parts mountains and highway employed farms, urgently and extremely smoke merges home with sweet places, some money growing smoke’s housing. Faceless people find their highway and the mountains become lost in themselves, lonely sharp and

distant.

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