songs are here
lined up in the fog
no one can hear them
except the dog
i will escape
through a hatch in my mind
except no escape is possible
just remember to be kind
evey day the men in suits
sweat in beds made of money
money rolled up in poop
sometimes i can hear the lord
the one on the desk
he's pissed about something
which is anyone's guess
as to what it is
just what it is
what is it
***
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