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Something just isn't right to me. Its like a Daytona Coupe had a ugly love child with a E type.
Its front is to long, or its ass is too big. I'm not sure what one, but it just feels off to me.
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Wrap me up in my old flying jacket,
And give me a joystick to hold, to hold,
And I'll soar once again o'er the trenches
And thus shall my exploits be told.
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