We waste our time,
spend our time,
tossing stories,
back an forth,
all the time,
on goes the war,
the deficiencies and death surround,
as if we deserved to sit on the clouds,
just tell me how it all makes sense,
why everyone sits on the fence,
and stares at the stars,
watching them glide,
not learning how we too may fly,
pretending like the world,
just isn't there,
and oh yes we,
are something rare,
there's dozens of us,
don't fool yourself,
were everywhere,
just sitting on the shelf.
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