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Maine, forever kindling (by vox et praeterea nihil)
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can I have your only coccoon,
your only one,
like all that water building up
and all the earth is spinning gently
now face the music
and count the time,
the needles pointing toward it
like all the water coming down
and all the earth is falling crush hard
weather drying
having lost it all
in another of your total ecstacy trips.
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