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‘s not wrung, see you; unforeseen times rather — as skies
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postbox for the inner ear. Tarantula’s footstep,
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Y ¿quién prueba mi paciencia?
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you will not be able to keep it
-
Take a clock that has lost its hands
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taking in the storm,
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And the walls collide, Mona cries
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which refuses to accept
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This meant that
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Into the ecstatic void—