1399 1 2
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That sound. Bone against bone. Skin across skin. Blood fraying into the unknown dark. He loved that sound.
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93500
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In the tumbled-down now there's too much material, culled from pretty boys that don't notice me and tattooed ones that do, and I'm certain there's at least one dreamer soaking eyes into me who knows all the twisted lyrics invoking pretty little horses.
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