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The Absentee Ballot
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This Is Hell
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A million candles line these streets. Back home there's just melted wax on the concrete and I recall a heart so pure that it ceased to beat. I haven't said nearly enough, but I've already said far too much. These are the best and worst things we will ever get, so don't forget... back home they curse our names, but good or bad we all rot the same.
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