Time runs out and skirts down the drain, like your precious gold chain
with a coat hanger and light, you're trying your best to fish it out
but, we don't get time, we don't get to make up sleep, we don't get to redo anything
I'm a nervous wreck, trying to write music, trying to keep busy and out of trouble.
Trying to smoke and still get shit done. Writing...new music is soon approaching
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