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She made me, that tired fool;
A box of knuts and broken bones and -
Repeated words
Repeated breaths -
fools die gladly / for less money than these / my worth, my girth, my hearth / and my cheese /
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fools suffer more / when they think they deserve it / the trouble with fools is / they try to preserve it /
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When you have nowhere to turn,
And darkness is by your side,
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