I want to tell her so much, yet it wouldn't make no difference, for she has sailed away; my little Sailorette has moved to another port, and alas here my infertile land stays, waiting for the tide to come back; and the wait bitters my spirit to oblivion, and I enjoy the sickness unto to me, for I feed on it, and my resignation has crushed my spirit and I dwell upon it, and drink the putrid drink one more time until my lungs are soaked in it, I can't but punish myself for it's the only thing I can do.
And so on, and so on, and so on, and so on, until the I am drown by the tide again.
And so on, and so on, and so on, and so on, until the I am drown by the tide again.
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