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■ I know what you're thinking, father
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Snowing heavenly'n the forest
Mother Winter's everywhere, milky flakes out of her white breast Way down low. 'can hear the wind between the branches I'm afraid I have to go, giving up ridges for trenches Way down low. There, there, goes my story leaving no regrets behind needn't really have to worry 'cose my Ego's getting blind. I thank Heaven for this Snow White that has come and will not go. -Never thought of blindness so bright... said the Prince, now, not alone.
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