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His illness was something could not vomit1 him up.
Unwinding the world like a ball of wool Found the last end tied round his own finger. Decided2 to get death, but whatever Was always his own body. Where is this somebody who has me under? He dived, he journeyed, challenging, he climbed and with a glare Of hair on end finally met fear. His eyes sealed up with shock, refusing to see. With all his strength he struck. He felt the blow. 点击收听单词发音
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