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There's a foreboding bought of restlessness rustling in my belly I can feel it taking hold of all my fingers and pulsing in my breast Imagine there's no heaven   It's easy if you try
i have a friend who flew with the times and plummeted to the ground as his pocketful of rhymes sunk and spat and became one with the earth-- the ground upon which we dream still engraved with his words
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