Verse, take me Higher, I've seen the Lowside
far and near, it has grown by Dimensions
beyond the Horizon. All of my Season
in Hell has been Brutal. For each seed I'd
eaten of which there were Seven, I've cried
Countless times in Regret at my Hunger.
Por que? Por que? Por que? me toko hacer
poeta y sincera sin Remedio ay
de Mi y de Ti. I pity you, Me,
and the At-risk Imagination said
its Goodbye at last. What was it I Said
to You? When last we spoke you Forbade Me
to Talk of your Crimes. I held back my Tweets.
What has become Salty used to be Sweet.
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