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| typhoid | eyes closed spider dance the sun has on no pants. my ears tingle with the eskimo song the prongs are too long to have fong, the points are like lavender nipples on the ends of fronds. the ice creaks below and the air screams above, oh, wont you love, my love, oh love.... what is love? | 000417 |
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what's it to you? who go |
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