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The sixth five-year plan is karabasit, sticking kitty-kitty sweets into everyone’s ears, but the candy wrapper only paints that candy, a fountain of bloody splashes seethes under it.
Do not lure us with a caramel cry, into that river where the face has been sour for a long time, let it scratch its paws with sweet lies to faithful rats, and we have had enough of these songs – “Chyk-Chyryk”.
STOP ROCK!!!
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