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DIASTEMATA

3.2.09

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I shine lights into the fog.
Wipe the windscreen.
Find the perfect song.

I'm warm.
I'm dry.
I'm accelerating.
Insects slip unnoticed into the ether.

The road is wide and unguarded.
Nothing creeps but the pretty moon.

Then somethi.
Posted by Lee at 22:50:00

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