You talk so much of money, but all I have is words
Why don’t you hush now sonny, I know you think that I’m absurd
With all my thoughts and dreams of page-shaped legacies
When I was wrought it seems with all this fighting to please

Now I just pour out my heart on these pen-stained pages
Sit by the windowcill and contemplate what it is that rages
Behind the still exterior of my being
In my not so still interior, if you could see what I’m seeing
You’d run.


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