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Busy and soulless is the world. Always running and striving to make another dollar. The corporation is now our home. Conformity is what it is called. The more the fly struggles, The more tangled it becomes, And a meal for the spider soon comes. Individuality has long been lost. Survival for the human race was the cost. To eat, to talk. To run, to walk. To breath, to use chalk. People run around like chickens with their heads cut off. Acting as if everything is kosher. When in secret they desire, not to be the liar. To the world, To themselves. Caught up in the rat race, that is impossible to win. In the end, we collaspe and call it a sin. That we never did what was right. That outfit, though, was tight! Even though we had to kill a seal, To get what you want in life, that’s the deal. |