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I've been swallowed by the plaything |
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Born through my brainful ashtray, |
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It stinks, pure on this laughable side. |
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The will to skin, |
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This gaping flourish encumbers. |
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Last, poor unforeseeable shape. |
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Now it's hard to end this incoherent, twisted dialogue. |
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A conspirator. |
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I can't image another mask to surround this pigsty. |
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Listen, |
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Are there ways to limit my disappearing? |
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Tomorrow's decline will necessary fit together |
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Completeness through isolation. |
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My plans were different. |
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This is the answer to implore a patient essence. |