Trying to tell an old story
in a thousand different ways
and still so many times to go
and still no idea of what pays
wanting to not tell a lie
wanting not to bore
still not even the faintest
of what might yet lay in store
beats and subways, pyramids
pretty to think it could be true
knowing I can not
tell your story for you
reach out for the passing peace
hope for only that
and keep your finger at your lips
if by chance you should smell a rat
what
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