The Great Depression - text
Storm clouds spreading.
Black horizons oil slick the southern sky.
What prospects should I gather here to motivate my corpse to rise?
My eyes reject the staleness of this day.
And 'reason' gives purpose for all the pills I have to swallow.
My heart is dead and hollow.
Metal boxes racing by
Ringing out the death of my life.
Towers looming the antithesis of nature.
Entering this asphalt tomb- self- interest my crime dictator.
Now that I stand to carry the weight - try to conceive me that it's all for something?
Now that I stand to carry the weight.
I lie to myself... Am I living-dead?
Four walls surround me with wires outstretched- the triumph of time over.
The modus vivendi- each man for himself.
And each an island
Get me out of this hole.
Somehow... Get me out of this hole right now... My great depression
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