you can yell all you want, but words need to be put in order. half of the time he didn't make sense, actually non at all. i tried, yes, i truly did. too hip for his own cause, th life of a tortured artist is one of sorrow. well, as if it ain't enough oil was spilled, oil? why would you kill that which loves you? we inhale and exhale, it's what we do...see, spliffs are the new now, are the new now, know that like the truth.let learn love caustic but mostly uneven tones to clash in a 12th interval.
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