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Passion of the Pessimist

We all just barely make it through

Our lives, our minds, our lies, the truth.

All will be washed away by the tide.

Nothing remains but vanity and pride.

Everyone alive fights for the losing side

Making money, chasing love, getting high.

We’re always worshiping false gods

And being rewarded, against all odds.

In our bloody bodies and mortal minds

Sins of the flesh are all we can find.

The world is a wilderness

Full of wonder and wickedness.

We forage the fleeting joy of our lives

From the fragments of whatever survives.

Why Can’t I Fall Asleep?

Spirits in a Bottle

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