Lille hvide du, falder mod udkanten.
Risser og beskidte overflader forsøger at redde dig.
Du siger, du har dine grunde. Du siger, at fedtet på din pande nok skal holde dig fast.
Du ved det godt, du ved.
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Little withe flower pip, you are heading for the outskite.
Dirt and scratches is trying to safe you.
You say, you have your reasons, You say, the stickiness on your chin will safe you.
You now it, you do.
