Your great gliders up in the sky
powered by pure thought
I’m stuck bare foot on the beach here
guess I should have brought
a better game up to the table
guess I should have started sooner
guess I thought I’d be a writer
scientist or crooner
I cannot break loose my head
from this dumb loop of what am I
and how I’d love to tell the bastards
in control to eat shit and die
charming and quite useful sure
a waste of ink by a waste of skin
and when it comes to that kind of smack
know it’s time to pack it in
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