| «How's your life? |
| How are things?»
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| «Great they’re going okay!»
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| Something stale and superficial,
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| not to ruin your day.
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| Something swell,
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| something gay,
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| with the toothiest
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| smile,
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| something sappy,
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| something happy,
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| something smells like bile.
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| I don’t want to burst your bubble,
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| not to rain on your parade,
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| underneath my skin I’m tired,
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| limping down this path I’ve made.
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| The clap of thunder in my veins,
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| breaks on barren manifold,
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| still and small and so mundane,
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| the greatest story ever told.
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| Are you crawling through the dismal?
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| Gray of nothing,
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| frostbite kills.
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| Does this world make light of weaving,
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| shrouds to bury,
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| graves to fill?
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| I am just a kindred spirit,
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| a runner who is running still.
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| Welcome to the longest mile,
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| the most costly thing you’ll ever hold,
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| wonderful is the journey,
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| the greatest story ever told.
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| All my dreams are slowly dying.
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| I can count my years in scars.
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| The only one that’s never left me,
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| has carried me so very far.
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| I’ve heard it said that he wastes nothing,
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| so beautiful to behold,
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| the Author of my hope is writing,
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| the greatest story ever told. |