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■ The oak
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It will make sense between myself and my reflection
For now I’m as cold as cold can be underneath a green river, But I don’t have the reasons, I don’t have the answers. So open the book for me; The one that melodically speaks to silence. Cause if I try to move, right? If I…move… I bleed and get stuck Consuming the distance between timeless raindrops. Maybe someday there will be no borders to frighten And then I’ll know. I’ll trust the truth. You know...October is dancing. Saturday, October 04, 2008 23:25:46
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