 | Пятница, 18.05.2012, 09:15 |  |
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Four Long Years A collapse of concentration A futility of words A loss of all sensation An arbitrary world Too fast, too slow The operator does not know Can't sleep, can't weep For years and years, not much to show With luck, with charm The operator may succeed Impact, in fact Today's inspection may proceed Finese, deceive and flatter The chemically mis-matched The sound of missing matter Advances sealed and snatched |
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