The degree to which
I haven't got this
is it me or the muse
which is remiss
I'm tired of the conversation
in my head
or on the wire
once upon a time there was
if not more than illusion
at least inner fire
and the endless river
does not care
and nobody gives a damn
if it all goes nowhere
So why should I do anything
but fuck it and float free
why indeed
well now what you ask me
what
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