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𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨.

𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙨𝙣'𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜.

𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥,

𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥,

𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.

𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙄 𝙙𝙞𝙙 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜.

𝘐 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘮

𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩,

𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙢𝙥𝙪𝙡𝙨𝙚.

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯.

𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘶𝘵,

𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙄 𝙬𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙗𝙚 𝙡𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜.

𝘔𝘺 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘳-𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯,

𝘱𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴,

𝙥𝙖𝙥𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙨.

𝘐 𝘤𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵.

𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘶𝘵.

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