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Lonely Pipe Lonely, lonely man, Tobacco-filled lungs and rainy Mondays, Torturing your lungs and your heartache. She is gone now, asleep in the Heavens, What is this truth that you try to hide? Lonely, lonely man, I am calling out to you. A self-righteous form of suicide, you say. Now your body’s on the floor. Can you hear me now? Lonely, lonely pipe.

Man with a Pipe by Pablo Picasso

man with a pipe  

man with a pipeeee

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