Over enthusiastic folks who trust their solar stock,
shout fire in compensating moral fraud
While Monday's mascaras are rushed on a subway track,
how can I waste my ink on nonsense like this.
Hold on where have I heard about there being times
where the quiet and the none find themselves first in line
There lurks a predatory guilt infectious sham
I meant to learned the etiquette of hurting someone back.
It has always been a dangerous world for the living
And a brief one for the dead
I've been Ok, willing my days
One good or bad decision at the time.
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