I'm only thinking in Times New Roman, heart off in another time zone
I'm carried the burden of staying true to myself and holding the ghost of a dead writer
I only look in the mirror when i want to see something wrong in the world
I'm my own first class enemy, so many things wrong with me, too many to see
bitter flesh wrapped around a structure made for failure, this is so me this season
fashion models lined up dying to show off some skin, im selling mine out and calling it sin
while the politicians sit around capping off the latest campaign with some champagne
vote for my selfindulged, sarcastic sense of say something as your (let your conscience be your) guide
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