Mich unter das Meer umschlingen. Mich unten im Salz verpacken und namachen. Pflug keines Landwirts berhrt meine Knochen. Kein Drfcheneinflu meine Kiefer und sprechen, wie Witze gegangen sind und meine ffnung leer ist. Lange, green-eyed Reiniger whlen meine Augen, purpurrotes Fischspielverstecken aus, und ich bin Lied des Donners, Abbruch von Meer, unten auf den Fubden des Salzes und mache na. Mich umschlingen... unter dem Meer.
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