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Defeat not in drunken times, nor in tents folded with brothers waiting outside, because we had concerns and certainly were wrong. Be the head. Be the family. Sheep put it all in the right place, also of that time of the world when you were born naked and filled with spirit scented drops of fatherhood. He sure would testify the next time, without watching simple and sober helpers along the way. Priests didn’t belong there any more, thus avoiding institutions and religion. We were told we ought not to move, everything began with the ending, placing us under strange fire, and we assumed to be very much alike, yet worlds apart. Filled we were, with spirits of lawlessness, and could only pronounce sentences coming from a sleep state. We would wake up, we did we wake up. Wake up, sheep said. Observe how everything ugly points to one garment, and never tell the defects in improper streets, be the first one to get it right this time.

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