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| Under clouds of nebulae lay an organization so secret they could only be called Humanity on Planet Earth on a sun so remote nobody else ever found it | |||||||||||||
| I'm awake but my skull's not, gota finish the heat of the coffee. It's alien: It's from Pluto... And Pluto doesn't even exist anymore. Baby, the Son has died for a while, + it was He who levied against these waves of sleaze. Hey, I'm reviving: Consciousness comes to those who grind the coffee, and so goes the grinding of the sun |
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| Debatable Intention | |||||||||||||
| Deadmediawrithe | |||||||||||||
| canadian writer |
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| Skull of Man"Kind" | |||||||||||||