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Oh the horns and the bugles and the loud noises i read everyday to make me see that the world is in the hands of no one and no one seems to be doing anything about it so that we can sleep and wake up to a morning not so full of grief and shadows of those who look so happy in obituaries of the living dreams of someone who had dreamed it before you or who else could it be that know the truth of reality. Flightless birds will never exist in the world where the air is so blurred.