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Life’s getting cold stubbornly
The desire is liberated from China.
I run in front of him with a radiant sun face.
Grapples for water.
The dimension of the dream has changed.
The cell hurts.
The screaming of a newborn baby wakes me up.
The air is crying.
He wants to eat.
The golden strands of my power are weaving my existence.
I'm different tomorrow.
It protrudes, it breaks.
On its touchstone, a cube spins.
He stops at his corner.
Your chances are on the brink of being.
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