All these days just seem like they're getting longer I feel more and more like a warmonger THE CHILDREN ARE GRUMPY
Idealism and metaphysic are the easiest things in the world.
A tree had to grow a hundred years The water had to die and be reborn
Enfolded by such a force as folly it perishes Yet a troubadour of troubles, a minstrel of mycological mishaps, blithely ordains
as the vessel is swallowed by dark waters, silent tentacles surround.
Encapsulated euphoria, invariably found
Dead flowers scattered on the floor On my side it looks like three
But what do I know? I’m bad with numbers, and my vision is shit.
But my feet don't know I'm out of step, And my eyes are clouded over with tomorrow's dream.
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