debris' face tastes of sister flickers it's 900 degrees the breeze is a jagged mess we're some lump thing in the throat of jog we've played our errors out in a chaplin cabin eating vertigo'd boots all stoned on commotion she's like pass the emoting lotion honey show some that sort of motion you used to and i'm the skyline thing is rolling can't you see it too this is blue should we frolick how long does anything matter depends on who
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