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9:55 p.m. - 2004-02-11 who do you need, who do you love, when you come undone? sleeps in my pocket, smooth and sleek growing dimmer by each week fragile as iron cold as pain drawing blood from every vein crinkles like bells as distant as fog trying to go back home to Mog mother tells me its too soon he permeates my foil cocoon all the music's gone away but i can't help to want to play all the glitter's turned to grit and the pyre's already lit touch me once, i'll turn to wind and curse the wounds you try to mend touch me twice i'll turn to stone and force you to leave me alone touch me thrice i'll turn to ash pouring fire from each gash
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