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An Errie Time

This is an eerie time
To make a living out of turning words into numbers
The parable of the sower cannot save you
And you try to save yourself by turning words into gold
What’s the fear you see in a mirror
Crawling out of the haunted well
Can you forget, remember
You are here, they cannot hear you
Hands over ears, the silent scream
Or can they? The idealist’s dream

Is your nightmare on parole
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