And what's not really clear
is your fear of the water
when the ripples in the puddle
are the what's left of tomorrow
because all men march to the drum beat
except they aren't really drums
they're the moans of the hungry
just like all men slave for the dollar
working day to day
in a form of passive horror
starring wide eyed as the world transpires
because the of actions today
seal the fate of tomorrow
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