My Tears Fell Gently Onto My Guacamole

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My Tears Fell Gently Onto My Guacamole
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Turning and turning the widening gyro The cook cannot hear the customer; Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the tortilla, The salsa-tinted tide is loosed, and everywhere The plates and silverware are drowned; The wrap lacks all conviction, while the filling Is full of passionate intensity.