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Artista: The Radio Dept. Walking through the park. And we’re fine. You say you like the dark and your hand in mine. We climb the wired fences. Pretending to hurt. You say that you can sense there is something safe. I must be ill, keep thinking me pretend. And how long before, this has to end. An unselfish medication, ambition fills. And best is simulation. Oh, can you set me free?
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