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￭ n_everending story 
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2009-09-25 | | From afar stars glance down upon pitch dark waters and that lamp made of rice paper masquerading as the moon. One sound only, from the throats of frogs. A squirrels keen eyes penetrate the sky. You, white swan, glide silently forth. Marc Bolan is on his way.
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