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Darkness, it comes for me.
8.9.08
CXXXVIII.
I used to talk about the things that dreams were made of.
He used to be a surgeon, he'd pick her heart apart.
She has always been an acoustic guitar.
And I never could play a damn song.
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Broken Records. Broken Teeth.
Recalled To Life
vile and wretched
Wealth and Excursions
Meaningless, Meaningless, Meaningless
Pastoral Genocide
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