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WHITNEY
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WHITNEY There's to say, nothing more.
A fact, impossible to ignore.
You're going away,
the month before May.
There's nothing to say.
It dont matter anyway.
No, it's not see ok with me.
You're going home, I'll be all, all, alone.
Home, you will fly.
Yes, I will cry and ask why.
Why did you have to go?
I say no.
