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                        Текст (слова) песни: John Frusciante -  How High
  We met you through your fortune You`re made of high You slipped through the streams of the city We slip your mind
  How high, how high? Past life How high, how high? Leave your body
  You leave the past in a field When your odds are timed When you stand in a plane  This ground does rise
  How high, how high? Past life How high, how high? Leave your body
     
 
  
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