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Lingering in your garden here our tired hands are bound To toiling without pleasure in this murky earth we found Distance is at fault here and its slowly gaining ground So stay here at my table till proximity is sound

Keep it in, keep your last breathe, make it worthwhile

I was looking for something, when I was pulling my skin off

So if god is an acronym, some giver of damnation Then why even bother with the concept… read more

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