by Jack Conte
What a game we play in this arena. It's called:
"haul your ass, or you'll be eaten."
Fill your mouth, don't be shy, have a bite now. He wasn't fast enough, so he's in the dark now. That's the way it will be in the land of the free. And the man in the moon (made of dust) laughs at us! No! Don't laugh at us!
I'll keep me calm with a slew of convictions. Nothing sings like a good distraction. I wish my head was a page in a printer: trash bad thoughts with the click of a finger.
With the crack of a gun and the snap of a bone we will fall to our knees, and we're gone, and we won't come back. NOW, I'm alive! And my soul is on fire. And I breathe, and I love, and I sing, and you can't stop me!
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