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Monday, January 24, 2005


My hands are like ice, sitting at the front of my connection to the outside world.
It seems, my life is spent in idle concentration, meaningless blather and impressions.
The things i hear make no sense, if you think, which is not something we are prone to do.
What is age? why is it important? what we wanted to do, we have already done, and if we haven't, well it's only a matter of time.
Rhyme, Time, oh Sublime Limes!

Anyone confused yet?

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