don't real-eyes
we're not as judge mental as all that,
the plot doesn't thicken,
this is no place to raise a child,
are you listening children?
as in a ruin,
that sicks a sad joke on the people around them.
haul deeply on the filter,
taste the bitter fiber glass
of a last smoke, on the last dime,
knowing that we're too much of a cunt to ever rely on the
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