Lying, thinkingLast nightHow to find my soul a homeWhere water is not thirstyAnd bread loaf is not stoneI came up with one thingAnd I don't believe I'm wrongThat nobody,But nobodyCan make it out here alone.Alone, all aloneNobody, but nobodyCan make it ... ...
(Blogginnlegget er hentet fra Lukten av trykksverte)
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