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Sputnik

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Why do I keep coming to these places?
Attempting to siphon something into this void
Vicarious joy, vicarious hope, still dream of the rope
Can't cope with this anymore, the wound is forever sore
I'm getting sick of trying, lying to myself a bit more
Fuck your good health, choke on your worthless wealth
Burn down another Newport, the tenth or twelfth

◄ Menthol memories

Small Arms Protective Insert ►

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