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■ The oak
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you look familiar stranger
as if once you have lost your herds into me those times, strangers, it was raining we were looking for nests thorns in our words we were wearing wind overcoats your hand within my heart you spoke look I`ll be gathering some rods to sleep for a while scared I would rise my shoulders up lingering virus though my veins I had a fever, remember my friend your palms with sand questions dropping on the body then I died for the first time and we ran along the wet field we felt nothing under our feet laughing and spending the night one into the other
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