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| Hey... I thought I got you already. | |
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| You can't kill an idea, man. I'm like the smoke. Wind... Always present always here man. Philistine. You breach the contract set by love and signed by me. | |
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| Where do you come up with this crap....? Boogety blah. I'm the wind, man, I'm seasons and fish and blah blah blah... | |
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| You can't talk to me like that... I'm an artist! | |
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| Fine then, no more talking. | |
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