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rant
#1
i smoke one to eight cigarettes
a day.
when i get high, that total may change.
my color of choice is orange…
sometimes gray.
boy can i talk the day away…
except when i have nothing to say.
which is the most of the time…
thus why i write this rhyme.
i tend to go to this place
from day to day.
why? i don't know. except that it pays.
that tends to work out
'cause my dad used to tell me that money counts.
i hang around these people
now and again.
i like what they say. they make me grin.
years go by and i barely see them.
sometimes they're around. sometimes i'm not in.
i have these things. they
pass the time.
sometimes i don't want them
maybe i'll give them to the poor, maybe the blind.
but i'll bet i have to pay a tax of some kind.
i write about me and nothing
else.
cause love, death, and god don't ring my bell.
if i think of something else, i'll be sure to tell.
for now, this crap seems to work out well.
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