Centum Quînquāgintā Novem

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Swallow the abuse
Clentch my teeth as you accuse
Don't wake me up
I'm sleeping

Spring is never here
it can smell the blooming fear
It doesn't fit in;
such a spontaneous thing
in this over planned joke
we call "life"

Winter is always there
The only thing that seems
to care
And it belongs
It belongs
In this

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