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Lost but | know the compass_i_on will not lose me. When you kno w a y our true_self, your face that cannot fade, the idea of self as it was known, dies. What is left is a truessence. not_unlike a warm_simmeR, ENDuring the seasoning of badreams wake_up_laughing maintain_springs Blown by the wind_to_u_r esonate W/IT h e + i'me les s ons f all_ways
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