Friday, 23 March 2001

Non-friend

Why is it I find,
Sometimes we’re all blind
People are shitty
We’re left only with pity
All of the sheep lie
They find it hard to cry
See their squinty faces
Take me through the paces
Back ache, face ache
I try, what you fake
Do you cry like a baby
Do you make friends like maybe
at

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