Title: Optional

Text: First thing we'd climb a tree, and maybe then we'd talk. Or sit silently, and listen to our thoughts. With illusions of someday, cast in golden light, no dress rehearsal, this is our life. And that's when the hornet stung me, and I had a feverish dream. With revenge and doubt, tonight we smoke them out. You are ahead by a century, and disappointing you is gettin' me down. Each paragraph will be a test.

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