victim of the invisible hand
this night won't be any brighter
but colder nights are coming
colder nights are coming
I am running out of songs to sing
I have been left dry in the brutal sun
for so long
I could take my chances any night
tonight, I am just a plain coward
scratching the surfaces
on which beautiful things grew
this poem is just another lie
I write truths only in paragraphs.
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