Time ticks on

Like Dali's "The Passage of Time"

I hate rhythm, I hate rhyme

Like ulcers burn, a crematorium inside

My little ashes.

My colleagues are indifferent

Most won't look my way

The worst ones won't

Give me the time of day.

He doesn't speak

Only speaks Chinese

He's cruel as Hell

My agony is not for Show & Tell.

Bored to tears.

Isolated, left the fuck out

Who are these people?

Have they seen the results

Of the monsters they are?

Just because we're in the city

Doesn't mean you can act shitty

Look in the mirror and see

Blame the city, you still look hideously

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