My house is home for anyone but me My dreams are made up of the people I see Will I find the gleaming daylight? Or succumb to the darkness of the night? The world is your oyster, they say The world has been conquered, I say What do I do with the time I have left? What do I do with the space that I've wasted? Can you tell me What I should do with myself When all that is left has been used When all that is right is now wrong Who am I supposed to be if I've already been everything they want me to be?
it's tuesday if you dissect at least two worms Lumbricus terrestris is still moving so am i i can measure my life in tuesdays and cursive ceilings and radio rides and worms after rain they are still squirming on the pavement so am i
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