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He,
who wanders the streets,
he,
who wanders the world from his room,
Creator and disassembler,
breathing through life.
While burying it, I noticed it move. I quickly ran to get
the shotgun, but I tripped on something on the way to it.
The bear barely got out, but when it did, I felt that
feeling again. I froze in my place. He continued to move
closer and closer towards me
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It exists everywhere as anything.
No road signs.
Fate throws, you catch.
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I have the values,
but not the ways of applying them on myself.
It's driving me insane, I mind.
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The process repeats itself several times. I feel that
pressure again. Several moments pass. Everything is quiet.
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-אבאש'ך
ערומקו?
(בבניה)
אפרוח ורוד,
וובמאסטר למופת. |
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