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Sidewinders crossing the field with no caution to yield.
Humanity at a standstill, gazing as it's walking on heels.
Stalking to feel acceptance, left himself alone. He regrets this.
Messages sent with no reply, inside he's feeling breathless.
Tornado without the wind, a man on a self-destructive path.
Heaven-sent, only because he seen that Hell's a fucking trap.
Helter Skelter and love retract, redundant routes traveled.
City of dreams except waking up is among the town's battles.
Drawn out faces, so plain with disgrace and complacent.
Memory adjacent, racing time just to try and erase it.
Polka dot hairline embattled with a receding tide.
Covering the echos of failure inside his depleted mind.
Sky's been reached, high times in defeat, he's bleeding wine.
Drunk off newspaper articles, fine print leaves repeated crime.
Feed the wise, if there's food for thought then he lost his utensils.
Tenfold the reactions, fine line he's crossed with prudential.
Asking too many questions, nodding as he talks with potential.
Fought the resentful, awaiting an upper hand to walk more eventful.
Narrow escape routes wearing him thin, tearing his skin.
Shawshank with a bullet, all pulled through an embarrassing grin.
Even Paris has twins, metropolis set with sufficient borders.
Admission forces the poor into a remissive torture.
So slip your quarters into the slot, maybe a new life will drop.
Second chances with every heartbeat until this crude cycle stops.
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