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Skirting issues with hems held high, the word truth is streching across foreheads.
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| By night, i am a cadaver. | |
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the crest of the "h" all but transparent, cyclicle reimbursment rattles pot-shots to travel logs.
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| Dialouge with men lost, but quote not the fixations pasasge. | |
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| i ride compass sides, but cannot circumnavigate halo domed fixtures. | |
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| threads fall from fingers to disastrous floors. | |
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