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A Seat at the Table
J. Tillman
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๐ฌ๐ง English ยท Original
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I wanted to build a monument here
With my face in the dirt and my hands in the air
And no one came, and no one cared
So I gathered my bricks and I disappeared
Now someone waits beyond the rich
While you burn through your evenings with traps to build
When your day is done, when your minds at ease
I'll carve a name in your bedpost to remind you of me
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