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O! there are spirits of the air
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raw, exposed, naive,
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All / your horses
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A cloud lives for ten minutes
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The coming / apart, the giant laceration across the sky, we all feel it. Look
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and each part of me is hung out to dry marooned
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And the beloved
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tentacles wielding guns, missiles
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we was going to try and save you but
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I will dabble in the vacation-hut industry.
