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sábado, 28 de março de 2009

I'd probably be outside myself
If it were not just for its stupid persistance
I'd possibly now be up to something else
If I didn't actually feel its existance

It's hard to believe
so simple it is
It's not to conceive
It's not you or me

It's something that's nailed
embodied, though absent
It's out of the scale
and therefore astonishment

My pumps of true strength
my Passion my guts
are all I have left
my Windows are shut

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