you can find your tiny figure,
poppy red poppy red at every intersection
it's not just my lust , you're ready for a funeral
for every sudden appearance Things will pass, all the past things are going under your eyelids to clear the way of God, to aim at Satan, the brows of faith are all extinguished by bullets. The way the darkness manifests itself is to extinguish every light on the road, and in your eyes there is a flame that burns the stars, and the ashes have swept away the wild, scattered pores of the body.
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