Nothing was coming easy
it was all going hard
times were tough as nails
for any independent bard
run out of passion
for all but the meanest vices
and knowing far within
that I would hate to pay their prices
it'll be better soon
is it a prayer or wishful thinking
it'll be better soon
not for staying up or drinking
What can we do with hard times
but wait the bastards out
it was all that I could do
that night just to suspend my doubt
what
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