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■ The oak
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2004-04-23 | | Sometimes, I find myself buried so deep in the music unable to move I sometimes see fragments Of great battles, and greater love stories As I breathe in the art But sometimes they find me still breathing still staring out upon the ocean that doesn't strech before me Sometimes, they are kind - No thoughts fuel their actions As I find them There is no music.
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