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Hollows out the soul when you see men stab at each other and lie.
And that’s all we have left to watch.
An unfinished song that never started, swimming about in a tired soul.
Tryin’a feel free. Call it high, outside’s hell boy. So much stronger when the mix is right. Don’t stop me now.
Not here to make you smile.
Manic and motivated. Can’t figure it. So desperate for a story. Starving for the north.
The young boy, now a man, sits in dread of imagined threats, and bemoans his station.
What is this? A flash of light. Then into the ground.
When we sit and sulk, time crawls.
Deus ex machina, the way of man.
Sitting in that old chair again. Strumming in a minor key.