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The truth of the matter isn't always fiery, or common place.
another really, really sad incident is aroused, and then languished.
when the runny goes dark, geologically, I'm fainting.
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living, breathing in a realistic place of purposelessness. fortunately I've vanished entirly from the world. now free to roam the streets, despite that I might be forced into absolution. one more grandiose claim for a knotting nobody.
While we're here I would like to provide an answer to Marcus Becker's old as dirt inquiry. Yes, it's true that I don't believe what comes out of my mouth for even a second.
I want to get high all day, every day. there are an incalculable number of different ways to exist and smoking on chronic is my personal affirmation. I fawn over it all with deeply seated external deference and a smile.
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Speeding away on that reality bending caboose. I stand facing you with my jacket, tie and slacks whipping in the wind darkness stepping in and out, reaching pronouncement. holding on tight and I know how crazy I must look from your perspective
synonym check please derek
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my dedicated heart, dedicated to pretty much nothing. I realize I've been using you to get me hung ha-ha smitten with that feeling of providing the means of my own passage deep into hell
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| while the buttons load, try and remember that there is nobody there we are a group of one hanging in the dense garden under the glass faces of the pyramid I'm shaking hands with every one and commenting on your face book pages
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