In winter quarters
shifting old tenting the detective
gets lucky? In private please.
She shares her fears, he leaves,
she dies. Death in service
of the plot. What I know
could be dangerous.
Oh Natasha!
Never rest until he's seen her,
what has it to do with you?
Not one corpse but two. I can count.
The circus turned upside down.
The old man at full blast -
Slams phone down. Hidden
somewhere, found by someone
else. Something in common.
Ah, Natasha! Why
is it dangerous? Let's make a bolt
for it. Not only from the knife
thrower but a would be clown,
a blood red midget, a slut and
virginal - she was right, poor kid.
A knife
that kills is buried with the victim.
Which leaves the rest of the set
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