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letra de the ink field - forrest baudelaire

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[outro]
dog carcass in alley this morning. tire tread on burst stomach. the city is afraid of me. i have seen it’s true face. the streets are extended gutters and the gutters are full of blood and when the drains finally scab over all the vermin will drown. the accumulated filth of all their s-x and murder will foam up about their waists and and all the wh0res and politicians will look up and shout “save us!”… and i’ll look down and whisper… “no.”

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