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It is so hard to live the angered life that an artist should
When you are surrounded by such bright lights
And the city is filled with angels
They don't have eyes
They can't see the pain
You've wished yourself blind
And bought a dark pair of sunglasses
It's easier that way
Jump, push, fall
Either way
You end up
Hitting the ground.
Does it ever really matter?
Please Midas,
Take the golden gun
And shove the golden bullet
Right through my golden skin
And tell me a story about
"All that glitters.."
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