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it’s freezing
the chairs are sticking
the stores are dark
the windows are broken
the noise is watching

the food is gross
the values are inflated
the exchanges are serious
it’s only early
we wont make it

it’s sad about the newsman
it opens our eyes to see his darkness
it’s only evening, the songs are chants
we wont make it, it’s freezing to ask

the pillars are old
the ideas are weak
the stains are seated
the hills are so far
the place is dangerous




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