Fresh is what I can't be, there must be something more for me; for us. Letting go is a way to live, being slaved away is no future( or present) for me; for us. Joking the months right out my mind, still swearing I'm blind just so I don't have to open my eyes. Is this the climax or the encore? Why can't I escape from these barbed wire fences? Truth is the Lynch mob is out to get you; fooled by a parlor trick.
Stressed Out
Stressing these days by.
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