I Wanna Be, A Dolphin Trainer.
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Trepidation burrows so deep and dreams of striking oil. Waiting for a signal, waiting for it all. Rooted to this Earth, rooted like a tree. Striving for an answer, internally. Concentration blocked by disorder, a conversation blocked by the door. If subsistence is just a chapter, what's next in store? The hands of time keep turning and never seem to slow. Still counting down the seconds, till the bar flies crawl back home, home home. Blue.
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