Gangsta (00:44:29)
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this massage from my grandmother I love here Another evening. My words are words. For the evening the next word: many lakes. And it is the river. She was short in winter. I remember the age evaporated from the train stations and in its stride. This close place is broken between two chests, and I don't remember it... My words are words. The windows are the sky of minds and hearts. Birds are the space of words and feelings. The path of life. The river is a river of memories. I'm for the memories. My words are words. And it's the first. I am the first or we are. Winter would not have come without you killing me... without crying and laughing. words words.
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this massage from my grandmother I love here Another evening. My words are words. For the evening the next word: many lakes. And it is the river. She was short in winter. I remember the age evaporated from the train stations and in its stride. This close place is broken between two chests, and I don't remember it... My words are words. The windows are the sky of minds and hearts. Birds are the space of words and feelings. The path of life. The river is a river of memories. I'm for the memories. My words are words. And it's the first. I am the first or we are. Winter would not have come without you killing me... without crying and laughing. words words.