the sun comes up with promise and my eyes burn open wide and the sting
compounds the torture from the vacant hole inside my conscious recollection
of the past events all seem to verify the emotion that now envelops me
dogged as a drone stagnant as the stone weathered and alone living on
the fault line there's no one here to listen but there's always room for
more they pretend to give you your say before they slam the door there's
very little patience, and very little love there's just your constant
puzzlement for what you're guilty of dogged as a drone stagnant as the
stone weathered and alone living on the fault line no one need deliver
me from such a familiar place i've come to terms and work in this ribald
downtrodden state it's subliminal friction under a kind of veneer and a
form of cold injustice that keeps me stationed here dogged as a drone
stagnant as the stone weathered and alone living on the fault line
--
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