| http://www.w3.org/ns/prov#value | - devouring the non leonine Survival is not feasting and toasting and without remorse the weakling accosting My dear friend Survivial is joining hands close and near till faraway landstill the love in your heart fills up your glands the soul is at peace has no more demands When the storms are raging whether your sails are posh or tattered the boat shall rock unforgivinguntil you feel lost and batte
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