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Pariso
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Scocciatura
Years of writing, years of fighting.
A knife in my back, nothing left exciting.
Heartless to the bitter end or as long you want to pretend.
I never knew of simplicity, home never kept me free.
We'll all drown in the river, the current growing stronger.
It's the distance that salts the wound, as long as I keep them in my heart I'll have the strength to carry through.
My mind follows as the heart will rule.
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