Dead, dead, dead, Empty with hollow dead eye's the world is a shallow plastic fake place, With nonexistent people that live the same routine daily to no end's, what's the point to this, Is it the monopoloy money that hold's no real current amount that has some sort of meaning to one's life, "To a better life", I have no dillusion's of a better existence, but to live my status the way I have alway's lived it, The weird, strange, different, indifferent, freak, loner, And love every minute of it.
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