1. |
patchouli
04:03
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2. |
autopilot
01:36
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3. |
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4. |
swarm
04:02
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5. |
bloom
05:54
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"I prepaid the mortician to make me look like I used to.
Eyes Shut and lips stale yet fleece green and shoes torn.
Couldn't find purpose in friction; behind the scenes, I'm out of mind.
Makko burn, fume patchouli. These eyes dull, soul's worn.
Escape unyielding prison. Hold onto me. Hold on for air.
My familiar's grown intrusive. By example, ignore.
Characterize my new rendition. Reclaim my deposit.
Note bottled on my desk, but I could never press eject."
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