| http://www.w3.org/ns/prov#value | - I regret.I think I used to be an artist,But then, I used to feel,There was a time, so long ago,That I once thought love was real.Sketching hollow hearts in school books,Slightly crooked, always red,Today I went back, and I amended,Wrote on each one that love is dead.Just in case I ever change my mind,Go back to how I was before.I think I used to be an artist,I am nothing now, not anymore.
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