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The single most tightest typing this text. Reaching pinnacle heights, the mightiest yet. Preaching, giving advice, writing with depth. Speaking cynical like I don’t like what you said. I’m ripe with success, enlighten the rest leading pitiful lives, like they depressed. I visualize life at its best. Consider it wise. Why would you stress? Just minimalize, try to relax. The limit is high, the sky isn’t black. I’m finished with guys supplying an act and woman disguised and hiding the facts. Cause lying is wack, it cripples your path. That’s why society has such a pitiful chance. The rioting acts begin to advance, but the crime and the wrath it is in your hands. Why isn't that abundantly clear? Your mind is a channel funneling fear. I’m guzzling beer, reflecting on life. Considering whiskey the rest of the time. I’m suddenly here, checkin the mic, fittingly tipsy at the end of the night.
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