Listening to the same old song
and before long,
I'll be back here listening to that voice.
What choice?
Choice is something I used to believe.
Now that I grieve
making my path astray and lonesome.
Nothing wholesome.
This was the same yesterday, all the time
committing a crime
of killing my precious sense of mind.
I'll fall behind.
Rewind,
listening to the same old song.
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