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My apologies to everything that I can’t be everywhere at once.
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When working on a small scale
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Well, everyone thrashes / against a wall / in this life.
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And for a breath of ecstasy
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The temple bell stops.
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The elderly rubbish they talk
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all the flowers are forms of water
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Opening their golden caskets to the sun,
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In those years, people will say, we lost track
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What does what it should do needs nothing more.
