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He is walking forward tracing his steps.

Round and round, step by step, waiting.

He hold it, hold it, hold it.

His old friend approaching, smile, and sit.

Wondering if it has to give him a hand or embrace him at the road end.

“I’m not alone. I’m carrying the baggage, he’s back,” It said.

He’s back.

He’s back

He is back

It smiles in black, in red, in grey

One step further, kissing the prey

Spinning circle, he is the grey

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