| i'm the patron saint of peeling paint, collector of the unloved's sighs - the chronicler of the frail and faint, self-appointed lord of the flies, i bleed for everything that dies. each loss is somehow a secret gain for the lover of darkened skies i mourn, and mourn, and mourn in vain; my whole life is the search for pain. |
| the patron saint of peeling paint |
dunleavy stock yard's 21 acres are nearly completely overgrown
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