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The words
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what the birds know is the way home
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one wishes to have been the musician, and so
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Love and a cough
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In wind without flesh, without bone, and inside
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I think I’ll hold this
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I make a reciprocal balance between light falling on the back of my eye to optic
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The sciences know. We do believe in art
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time makes change possible and
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I do dark things lightly
