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Sticks his head in the doorThe kind of shit to ignoreBaby, I cut the clothI don't know who to writeI don't know who can call upAll the questionsTo clean out a mindI fell in loveI heard about itI heard about itI heard about itAnd so it's not in your claspWhat's the function of a taskWhere I'd stung, I'm stinging?Help me reach a roadThat's a pity down on the docksAren't we two separate locksWith some kind of wanting?Wanted to take me into your bonesWhat's left of your bodyI've heard about itI've heard about itI've heard about itI'm standing in thereI'm still standing in the need of placeNeed of placeNo, I don't know the pathWhat kind of path I'll go nextLong lines of questionsLessons, lessonsWhat do you lose to conceive?Well it's hard to believeWhen I'm sold for your sleeveJust come out for your mealPlease, please, pleaseI can admit to concealNo, that's not how that's supposed to feelAnd fuck the fashion of a beeI'm heft about itI'm heft about itHeft about it
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