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how do I prefer my empty cup? iced, salted and out of luck woken up from that puppy love stranded on the rocks aground eyes peel to a pulse stunned like selkie's sheath's audible ticking clock nervous undertone of a tale that's plausible and misjudged moving hands, gloved
but to get current, I'd forgot through the talk, talk talk all double-tongued the clicks of my own sea change to rebirth, my jackpot dead is shed to peel the cage until the skin is true that I live in
so, if that's what it takes deliver my cold water straight to the face
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