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On Broken Wings - Six Hundred Cubic Centimeters lyrics
the sound of a primate. the offensive of attempting to create illusions with goals of appearing larger to an enemy. but can you dance like ingrid cold? my arm hair stands on end. i've got some questions, and i want them answered. am i nothing more than an upright ape? built in defenses, heartbeat increases an ape with shame, and an ego to match |
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