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The Haunt
The Haunt
You see the little box you place bits of your heart,
They ain’t the cure for your soul turning hard,
You see the Polar Bear
Eating her young to survive,
They won’t fuel your car
When the oil has dried and,
Being blind to the world
Passes the boy on the beach,
Dead in his skin,
Drowned and condemned
And spent so cheaply,
So chea...
Thursday 3rd September 2015 1:22 am
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