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2001-08-18 - 8:02 p.m. i hate burning this way, i wish i could burn slowly and enjoy the lash of the orange beasts tongue caressing my body with the chalice of Jehovah himself holy angels, you are no longer allowed to sound the bells in this part of town y'all ain't wanted i wish the trees wouldn't stare at me like that, trying to pretend that they knew me back in Kenya, when i loaded the freighters full of the failures of the ocean, and your hand constantly reminded me that i was a stranger holy angels, you are no longer allowed to sound the bells in this part of town y'all ain't wanted i have decided to kill the orchestra, i can no longer stand to hear the sounds of dead leviathans rumbling in hell and the chorus of jesuits taking their flights of improvisation clawing at my lungs even as i write this holy angels, you are no longer allowed to sound the bells in this part of town y'all ain't wanted y'all ain't wanted
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