Every comedy holds a tragedy
And the future will be the same as the past
Gravity pulls me towards a calamity
Fuck, the whole worlds going to crash
Fire burns my eyes
And I gather the harvest in the spring
I wear my pallid face to disguise
And carry my anguish like a dwarfed arm in a sling
I hold the greatest contempt for optimism
And I am precociously listless
I'm stuck in this malignant prison
All the while becoming Ali Baba's mistress
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