two smiles meet towardsthe child-wheel of my zealthe bloody baggage of creaturesmade flesh in physical legends-livesthe nimble stags storms cloud overrain falls under the scissors ofthe dark hairdresser-furiouslyswimming under the clashing arpeggiosin the machine's sap grassgrows around with sharp eyeshere the share of our caressesdead and departed with the wavesgives itself up to the judgment of timeparted by the meridian of hairsnon strikes in our handsthe spices of human pleasures
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