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The Bus Has Crashed. All We Do Is Sigh.
An ideas man with no ideas,incensed by common sense,setting off down the path of procrastination and showy distraction,because doing anything of actual value would be an abomination. Obscenely out of his depth and out of touch,tough on nothing but the nerves of the rest of us,a sycophantic sock puppet for the same old solutions, that…
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When The Party’s Over
Leave the bottle on the bar.I’ve kicked the can down the road,tracking its rattles,trying to hear what lies inside,but I think it’s just another thing that I don’t want to know,so you don’t need to know either. I sleep in shifts,paranoid and flanked by my sycophants.My best boy is a sociopath,nouveau riche narcissist,talks his shit…