You never think
It could happen to you
This fake life
Filled with ugly faces
You too
You've gone sour too
There were those times like big time
Then gone flat and puffy at the seams
Where did your secret fire go
That belly light that drew things in
Now rusty wires and pipes seem wicked
The magic having transferred
There is some kid living in context
You're melting
No time left to behave badly
Shave and get ready for work
Others were prepared, spectrum-ready
You, with pan flute and boots
When did that become cumbersome
The lot of it dried up and cranberried
You can't pass
You must drink
And on other foolish footpaths
You must stumble toward rocks
Looking into the woods for mirrors
But today only meat
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