The dead minimum that I can get away with
has gotten me this far
I can’t imagine what force on Earth
could induce me to raise that bar
I’m doing this like time
nothing matters but line on top of line
pretend at some extremity
I’ll somehow reverse the decline
this pro forma racket doesn’t
much appeal to me lately
too damn many memories
swarm up that trouble me greatly
too many imaginary friends
with doppelgängers walking around somewhere
acting like real human beings
like things that eat and love and care
one extra hour of sleep
won’t make going through the motions seem right
neither the first nor second trump will come true
I’d bet on that tonight
change comes in long slow monotony
and never seems quite done
and if it strikes you as a dullish tale
you’re damn sure not the only one
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