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I think I'll be dead, It could be tommorow, Face bowed in sorrow, a broken haze about my head. I'll enter oblivion. I'll meet with the car. My final resting place, the street. The rough granite, my flower.
I think I'll be dead, It could be tommorow, Face bowed in sorrow, a broken haze about my head. I'll...
Car
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@anon
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death
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