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raze a songsmith who stole all his moves from the mediocre balladeers who came before him sings of quiet love and holding onto the moment. babe, he croons in a voice devoid of personality. i never wanna let you go. "and yet you'll have to," i say, though he can't hear me. he's little more than a digital file surfing the radio waves. "it's the way of the fucking world, pal." 231202
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