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■ The oak
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I am on the Highway
each time I wash myself and dress myself and go to work or church and sleep with the lights on and drink my coffee black and kill for eating and other things that make me human turn me in a whore of life and for life and against it. But who cares if God turned His obsessions in flesh and blood. We're nothing but the ideas of an old man who wanted to live again and agian during his eternal death.
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