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kenkantor: Someone's junk.
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kenkantor: Making sense of San Francisco.
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kenkantor: It was a dark and lonely night somewhere else.
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kenkantor: Everything that was new.
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kenkantor: It's hard to keep track of the past anymore.
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kenkantor: Hey there, you with the stars in your eyes.
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kenkantor: Yeah that place.
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kenkantor: Headed toward godliness.
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kenkantor: Facing danger. horizons become compressed.