Screw the rain
Forget the mansion
Finesse the pain
All these days
All these hours
All these people
Are fucking cowards
Thier more like crows
Then men of flesh
They stench of bullshit
Ciggeretes
They do not care
They're lost within
They're spread around
By desires whim
I don't need a small font book
To say the world is run by fucks
The kind of fucks they do not give
That make a man not want to live
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