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Martin Narrod May 2014
He weeps his heart, and hangs his head,
He doubles back, and follows her back to bed,
She says, " Some homes are towns and lives, while others wear their homes inside." And he keeps up though he's kept out, the volatile, the sudden frown.
She makes up the cupcakes but they're never vegan are they? No they're never vegan are they?

He makes a gift, and wrings his thumbs, the bubble bath, the tepid tub,
Outside where the rains have gone long, something gives him something strong,
And he picks up where he had left off, the trouble is he doesn't know when to back off, and the cupcakes aren't vegan, sweet and such spectacular, but they really aren't eaten, now that they've been made with eggs. No the cupcakes aren't vegan, though they are quite delicious. And he loves her forever, though he never eats again. No he never eats again. No he never eats again.
Q Apr 2014
Stupid little children come here to die
And stupid little children cry
Stupid little children stall for time
Stupid little child of mine

Stupid little children let the mirror tell them lies
Stupid little children jump and don't fly
Stupid little children's smiles reach their eyes
Stupid little child is hurting inside

Stupid little children are ready but so scared
Stupid little children waiting for someone to appear
Stupid little children can't shake the fear
Stupid little children so far but so near

Stupid little children scrubbing their eyes
Stupid little children so stupidly wise
Stupid little children so sick of life
Stupid little child of mine

Stupid little children no one understands
Stupid little children waiting for a helping hand
Stupid little children sinking in the sand
Stupid little children can't find land

Stupid little children
Stupid child of mine
Stupid little children
I'm one of their kind

— The End —