Bags of Mostly Water
Broken Fingers
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Everyday that we wake up
We're dog-tired
More than before
Counting down the days
Erasing emotions
Generation of fools
Showing off our miseries
Pain became a cult
We've got the means to make a difference
But we just choose to advertise the problem
There must be someone
Anyone
But me
To carry this out
We think
But not me
Feeling so big in such a small bag of mostly water of mostly water.