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I love it when I'm not flying too close to the sun, but it still descends from its high throne in the sky to melt my sorry excuse for a pair of wings and send me plunging to my death. As I deserve.
I love it when I'm not flying too close to the sun, but it still descends from its high throne in the sky to melt my sorry excuse for a pair of wings and send me plunging to my death. As I deserve.
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