The Wheel of Samsara

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The people need their fix
gotta get up to the tower’s rent
the perfect people
that’s what I want!
take this pain, dissatisfaction
replace it with
a blissful reaction
I’ll sell my soul to pharma’s lore
that all my problems
will one day bore me
it’s the end
the judgment’s here!
A pill a day
will make me clear

But it’s just a fool’s parade
phony props and cellophane
smiling, photoshopped creations utter
on TV like horrid clutter
There is no left great white hope
there is only stolen makeup
plastered onto meth burnt bones
ya know
I never liked this show
please change it

Life will always burn
will always be too cold
or too blazing hot
the table’s always tilting
sending scrambling gentries galloping gaily
at some new white windmill in the sky
you’ll be back here when you die
you’ll be back here when you die

So I sit and stare
out the window with no glare
counting beads to win a dare
that a sloth could beat the hare

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