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postmodernists suck ass.
All these useless decisions were, a fight that was less
Than a call, your mind is read and clear now, I have made my
Own right
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Again our ways part,
every time it breaks my heart,
to see you leave me again -
what shall be the end?
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You were ment for - so much more.
There is no - race
Against - time
If there is - it is not real
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Over the past dozen years I have noticed
Where my half ancestors lay
Where my family feels compassion I have non
I have non
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There probably is, no bigger pain than this
Much grief contained within their hearts
I could not possibly imagine this eve in my darkest
nightmares
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שלום, קוראים לי
איניגו מונטויה
ואנ אלכוהוליסט. |
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