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and they take all i can give you now,

but i’ll be around longer than the words can be spoken, and, somehow, i’ll know whether you’re right, and you’ll know whether i’m right, and we’ll go our separate ways enough to meet at the end of the world, never turning around, but comin back just the same.

The Traveler
His is a belly, which, upon waking, tells

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musings & scribbles