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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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