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divorced's Journal

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23rd December 2002

1:23am: nothing
RIP my love.
RIP.

My own mortality taunts me.
The sounds.
How dare I try to grasp your music. Your passion. Your life.
All things have passed now.
I can not even try to feel silly.
A man has left, his presence shall stay.
In the music.
The music.
My kids...
will know.




The drummer's in the box office...and he's countin' all the money.
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