five o'clock- you're let out of your pen,
and the voice in your head starts to sing:
black out, black out, black out.
your pocket glows- it's your mother's voice,
but you've never known it to be kind.
ignorance finds its rhythm when truth hurts to hear.
spend your life with the seconds second guessed,
or spend it trying to avoid the inevitable,
you'll reach the same conclusion either way:
nobody gets out of life alive.
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