living life at the end of my rope
feet desperately hunting for solid ground
afraid of the day I won't be able to cope
when death knocks it doesn't always make a sound
i struggle to convince myself of hope
while the good side of life barely comes around
day to day is generally a slippery *****
if not sliding down
it's just 'round and 'round you go
on this rickety merry-go-round

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