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How his chin is devoid of green
His legs will be ignored, will
speak little
Quiet now
This hate-shape below is an Africa
Neither will vessels be empty of

planted diamonds
His nails are not related to the

Landing, he resolves a cold

I take this plane away from his,

away from him
As a machine, he cannot be the

This darkness is that they leave in

a short period
He can't ever find Never or be


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