When the teeth can hold back the gears when the stitches are all that hold
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the scars together and the
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lakes dry up like deserts is that when I will have my way when there is
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nothing left to savour
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I am sure that's how we'll be petty to the last drop broken to the last
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breath damned till I fold
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into quarters
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|
-----------------
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Oratory Of A Jigsaw
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| Luddite Clone |
