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| >> Static Item >> Lyrics >> Emotional >> ID #1561926 |   |
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Third wish, one question, catechize the loss of precision.
A secret poetry, she holds pistillate in her restitution. Compel this favored pretender. When you do things right people won't be sure you have done anything at all. I have screamed, I have wept, I will ring your nekc. Retreat and reprieve your constant need.
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