I can make you think I’m lying
Even if I’m not
You look sunny in the rain
You look heavy in the light
Tired like a voodoo doll
Always reaching for the farthest fruit
So why not reaching farther?
You looking past the cynics
Through as they are ghosts
And they want you to be hallucinating
Would be easier to swallow
They want you to remember
Gasping for air would be more difficult
To (recall/recoil from) the breathing
Alas they want your senses
Infused with gaping holes
Impossible to cross
(Must/much) too steadfast
And you cling to all the nonsense
A transcendental conditioning
Winning is such poor fashion
Such fierce desperation
Rather dialectic
A symmetrical gardening of thought
Caveat rebirth
We seem to’ve been bought
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