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CLI Through CLX
Where art thou, old friends?
Come and gone in one weeks time,
we sure smoked alot.
For this budding youth,
On which you have dared to trample,
i have no pity.
Sit in bleak winter
Waiting for a summer rain.
Spring must start the flood.
When I sleep to dream,
I find I wake forgetting.
Now I dream of sleep.
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