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■ The oak
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my mouth is dry out of clubs
thirst is squeezing the royal blue out of my heart love could dwell in the red of the scarlet letter spared for the name of the guilty that could live in the green of malachite dripped out on the stone from which I am made of love could have fun running through the rainbow with the light that darkens humans you could whisper upon my scratched knee by black heart look here under divine
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