Fall '08 TOC
our pasts are laid out we have lived them all the dead man first then the living child
lost satchel at the station contains the last message we’re one word past the town who named it grand trunk railway what adds up to an orange can you break that down for me?
cold ceremonies material fears like fires I couldn’t care more also the abyss is behaving carelessly the number one’s alone no one to tell it nothing no eye to see a thing
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