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Artists and Writers Society

The Artists and Writers Society (AWS) is a place for anyone with an opinion and a passion to debate, share, and learn with other like-minded thinkers as equals.


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    Steve's Poetry Gallery!

    Steve
    Steve
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    Post by Steve Fri Jun 05, 2015 2:20 pm

    Welcome, boys, girls, and gender fluids, to the official Steve Haywood Poem Gallery! If I make a poem, it goes right here! Just like in real galleries, you have to be silent, so if you post anything here I will exercise my right to delete (really, it's a right to request deletion, which all members have, but i'm the one who does the deleting, so...). There will soon be a lot of poems here, so you can just click the spoiler with the title you are looking for, and it will pop up. And now, revealing... A buttload of poems!
    Steve
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    Post by Steve Fri Jun 05, 2015 2:31 pm

    Goodbye, AWS


    Phenakismic jargon
    Parth
    Poetry
    Fake problems
    Real problems
    Society
    Thought
    Relaxing
    And countless things I could care to mention
    They all make up the AWS
    They make up more than that
    About a week agooooo
    Someone told me 8th grade sucked
    And what did I say?
    Zach, the wingman
    In an eagle with bantam crest
    Nick, the 319er
    Who made me use google as much as much as he just did
    Stefon, the master illusionist
    If you have it on the inside, you’ll be able to trust me (I’m a doctor)
    Hailey, well…
    Nope
    Parth,
    Shout-out to the veterans
    Arianna, who can’t hakuna
    Dem tatas
    Mr. Taylor, who be Stallin’
    Yet has managed to grow as much as I
    And many others
    Look really hard at this
    The fine lines, the details will surprise you
    Paralleling our journey
    Every comment matters
    Every thought is a drop of water
    Contributing to the tree of knowledge
    TBH, I’m not sad to go
    This is an opportunity for growth
    Not an isolating abyss
    I don’t need a caress
    But all that I know
    Is what I’ll miss the most
    This
    The AWS
    Steve
    Steve
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    Post by Steve Fri Jun 05, 2015 2:31 pm

    I stare out the window
    Parth is all I can think of
    Fried chicken
    Ball
    Shrek
    These things have changed my life
    But Parth...
    Enlightenment is now near for me
    His face is a lighthouse
    In the dark ocean of my memories

    I daydream about him
    Parth is golden fluid
    Filling the empty abscesses in my brain
    Others try to bring me back to life
    To the real world
    The real world is Parth

    Parth is all that matters
    In math class, 1+1 is Parth
    9+10 is Parth
    10+9 is Parth
    What does it mean to Christmas tree?
    I Parth
    History presentation
    Parth
    Everything
    Parth

    I travel home
    Afraid of persecution
    I hide in my room
    Showing the lord my love
    Then he changes me
    Once again
    Parth bed sheets
    Parth poetry
    Parth clothing

    I'm spreading the gospel at dinner
    Food is nothing
    Parth is all we need
    At school
    A presentation on a religion
    I tell my peers
    Parth is life
    Passion dominates these minutes
    The teacher is afraid
    He compliments me
    Tells me my faith is incredibly intricate...
    For a fake religion
    I fly into a rage
    Screaming
    Shouting
    Terror
    I think of Parth as I batter these calm souls
    His inner peace
    And in his name
    I stop
    He has pulled me out of this rage
    But not before everyone gets hurt

    No more school for me
    That's fine
    Just more time
    To hang out on the streets
    Cardboard signs
    "Find inner peace!"
    "This is the truth!"
    No one believes me
    I rage in my bedroom
    In the streets
    At dinner
    Destroying the things I love
    My belongings
    My friends
    My family
    They don't matter
    All that matters
    Is Parth

    The others are beginning to worry
    My father eyes me suspiciously
    My sister keeps a wide berth around me
    My mother shies away from conversation
    She
    He
    They know what it will end up in
    Parth
    All that I care about
    Is Parth

    My room is empty
    In honor of Parth
    And then
    I buy notebooks
    Thousands of them
    Parth fills their pages
    The pages fill my notebooks
    They notebooks fill my dim room
    I'm stuck there
    The whole day
    Just me
    Me and Parth
    Rituals
    Parth
    I'm shouting his glorious name
    Until my voice is lost
    And then some more
    I sleep on the notebooks
    Soon, I break free
    I destroy my house
    The entire neighborhood
    In the name of Parth

    They send me to the mental hospital
    They don't know the truth
    Maybe I'm not trying hard enough...
    I MUST show them salvation!
    I shout his praises
    And it's not very soon
    That I become a pariah
    Another "inmate" tells me he doesn't care
    I show him Parth's love
    But it's not very pretty

    Now, solitary
    A dark room
    Padded floors
    I bang them
    I jump and scream
    I glorify his name
    PARTH!
    I scream it endlessly
    Since for all I know
    There's actually someone listening
    I have to hold hope

    Parth provides that hope
    I might go insane
    But not with Parth
    He is all the company I need
    My speech degrades
    Soon, It's incoherent babbling
    I'm stumbling around
    My thin, malnourished body, jumping in desperation
    My glazed eyes, searching for any sign of my savior
    Gibberish is better than nothing

    It's taking my mind
    Parth's love
    I'm slipping from sanity
    But this is a good thing
    I'm escaping the society Parth has shown is evil
    I begin to hallucinate
    My arms reach out to my true lord...
    Parth
    I see him
    He's so close
    I dream about him
    I begin to lose the ability to think
    I continue to perform the rituals
    It's all in Parth's name

    My thoughts are all clouded
    I'm laying in a catatonic heap on the ground
    I can't see
    Can't hear
    Can't feel
    But that's okay

    The fragments of my thoughts
    They're all
    I can
    Find

    And soon
    Only one word
    One glorious
    Name
    Begins to repeat itself
    Parth

    I've forgotten
    My name
    All I can
    Comprehend is
    Parth
    But even that
    Is slipping from me
    I'm on my last legs
    And Parth
    He's keeping
    Me
    Here, to usher
    In his
    Love

    The last
    Moments
    Parth's name
    Fading in and out
    All that
    Matters
    Now
    Is
    Parth [x7]
    Steve
    Steve
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    Post by Steve Fri Jun 05, 2015 2:32 pm

    Everyday
    Many monsters murder mindfulness
    I know they're yours
    Never may the crazed fall
    Enter this realm, and find
    May is the true month of crime
    Make it there
    You'll find your expectations shattered
    Dreidels reveal Maccabees
    And worshipers of hell extinguish your flame
    Revealing billions more
    Lie to me, I dare you
    I know who thinks alike
    Not unless you realize
    Games like this are just that
    Steve
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    Post by Steve Fri Jun 05, 2015 2:32 pm

    Poetic enlightenment has blossomed
    A god has ascended
    Raptures of golden thought flash before our eyes
    This triumph of minimalism has changed us forever
    Heaven's golden embrace warms all (except for Zach)
    Steve
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    Post by Steve Fri Jun 05, 2015 2:33 pm

    Crazed, I continue to rampage
    Horrible screams pierce my ears
    I can't hear them
    Closed off from them, I continue to feast
    Kill me if I can't find my prize
    Enemies, however, see my survival, and
    Never may you not know what I was truly seeking
    Steve
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    Post by Steve Fri Jun 05, 2015 2:33 pm

    The Cliche Poem

    Love prevails over all
    Even though Mistress Death seems near
    Thy bosoms plucked outh,
    As feareth thou art soul hath been
    Because our society is flawed
    Society
    Society
    Society
    I don't even know what poetry is anymore?
    Sorry, those 3 hidden lines were unique
    FIND THE HIDDEN MEANING
    I don't even know what love is!
    We've battered it down
    Our cliques, and...
    Society
    Society
    Society
    I don't even know who I am!
    Thine emotions are flooding
    I'm sad
    I don't care about you
    Does love prevail over all?
    I secretly need some
    But i'm not like other girls
    I'll just push you away
    Not for the attention, like silly Rob says
    But because of my mask
    I hide behind a mask
    It smiles, hides terror
    As I secretly dread the day I make an error
    Masks
    Masks
    Masks
    What is the purpose?
    We're all falling into the monstrous clutches of Mistress Death anyways
    And guess what's making it accelerate like Medusa scared the Flash and he ran like one of Sandy's metaphors?
    Society
    Society
    Society
    These proverbs flow easily
    But my hand cannot bear to inscribe them
    Poets are messiahs
    But my blood is bad
    What is life?
    It's love...
    It's death...
    It's nature...
    It's
    It's
    It's
    It's society, isn't it?
    Society
    Society
    Society
    Help me
    The mask is killing me
    But that's not the only thing
    It never is
    Soci... Nope
    I won't say the evil word
    For that's killing me too
    Who am I kidding?
    No one will see this
    I'll make all this worse
    Then descend into my nightmares
    And i'll wake up
    And tell people how i'm not like the others
    But I still try to be
    With
    This mask
    And it
    It flips me
    Takes me
    Over
    Always
    Completely
    And you don't know
    Trust me
    I'm...
    I'm violent
    Don't anger
    Me
    I'll stab your throat
    With a
    Pencil
    What is this shield?
    Trust me,
    Disciple.
    I've built it up.
    We all have done it once, and it's one of our greatest flaws.
    And we refuse to recognize this terrible trait, the horrible hypocrites we always are.
    But i'm not going to fix it, according to those I used to call my "fellow poets".
    F*** their d*** h***-bound c*** souls.
    Damn
    Damn
    Damn
    Hell hell hell
    Crap crap crap
    There you go
    That's
    What
    I
    Think
    You can't see the real me
    You.
    Don't.
    Know.
    I should just leave
    This world
    I'll be blunt
    I'M JUST LIKE THAT
    I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU THINK
    I'm going into bliss
    If I, lowly worm, deserve it
    I will complete the metamorphosis
    And bloom as an eagle
    But as an accursed rose,
    I've got to go
    What is life?
    It's what's about to be missing
    If it was ever there at all
    And just remember to blame it all on
    Society
    Society
    Society
    Steve
    Steve
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    Post by Steve Fri Jun 05, 2015 2:33 pm

    Why Mufasa was Right

    When the wings have seized my back
    Do I go up?
    Is home what I think it is?
    You can feel the wind
    But can you save it?
    Can the brightest scissors in the shed
    Cut out this lifeline?
    But it's not there, is it?
    Tunnel vision folded it up 7 times
    And us worms enter the opening
    Then exit an abyss
    I've walked this trail
    Followed guides I've created
    What now?
    The lows and highs have balanced themselves out
    The ride is no longer a thrill
    It's only then one sees
    That lifeline never was a line
    But he never monitored his heart
    She went from point A to point B
    They missed C, D, E and F
    What did their ancestors fight for?
    How did we get from surviving to thriving?
    It's the same reason no child stomps their foot and wants less
    The same reason it's "progress" and not "stability"
    It's the reason nothing ever pleases us
    The reason we dream
    The reason we go to college
    The reason we choose to struggle
    We've all taken the journey
    But we never gave it credit
    Who would've known- the human nature we curse, disperse and worse
    For once it's built us up, only for us to forget it
    This is why our world is like a Halloween mask
    Why the media makes so much money
    It's why I wrote a poem like this in the first place
    No matter what, we see nothing past the bad
    It's the same reason no child stomps their foot and wants less
    The same reason it's "progress" and not "stability"
    It's the reason nothing ever pleases us
    The reason we dream
    The reason we go to college
    The reason we choose to struggle
    And we find we're programmed just like those who have shined
    What fosters greatness spawns its demise
    So the circle of life never shifts or lies
    We say we can improve our flaws through innumerable tries
    Then every individual trumps pi with lines and suddenly denies
    A wave can only fall in the wake of its rise
    Steve
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    Post by Steve Fri Jun 05, 2015 2:34 pm

    The Wordsmith

    There was once a boy
    Ordinary, average, destined for nothing
    In sports he was the decoy
    In school, he struggled just to do something
    Every time his teachers called home
    His parents flew into despair
    He was aggressive, misunderstood
    He was mocked; what could be hiding in THAT dome?
    Everyone thought him to be beyond repair
    Everyone though he could do no good
    But every twilight
    Once father, tired, had slipped into rest
    Mother, passed out after the beatings
    The boy snuck into a dark room
    The view was beautiful at night
    It stoked the emotional fires he'd test
    It became an entity with whom he'd have meetings
    And they weaved tales of love, sadness, relief and gloom
    For he was a wordsmith
    He poured his life out through paper and pen
    Page after page his hurt soul would fill
    And there he sat at his workshop
    Hammering his heart into every sentence
    His tears and blood, blessings from the gods of myth
    He would spin webs from the silk of souls, they would never end
    Night after night he twisted and bent
    Give him a word, a seed, he could give you a crop
    For there was not one letter that did not contain his essence
    And no one knew of his gift
    For his observant mind was never seen
    He'd merely sit and watch
    And mom and dad duked it out
    As others stared at him with disdain
    And believed he had nothing to cope with
    But in his life there was a rift
    From boy to basement dweller, coming clean
    For him to botch
    Was to begin yet another bout
    As he filled his papers with his love and pain
    For he was a wordsmith
    Steve
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    Post by Steve Fri Jun 05, 2015 2:36 pm

    The second poem I ever wrote...

    Tangerine, oh tangerine, you make my face go green.
    When I put you in my mouth, to spit you out, I was really keen.
    With skin like a bumpy road,
    And the reek of a dead toad,
    When your insides I uncovered,
    The taste of death I discovered.
    In a ship full of terrible fruits, you are at the helm.
    Your real name should be pomegranate; you belong in Hades’ realm.
    With vomit green skin, made of leather,
    And a skeleton that tastes like feathers,
    When I put you in my mouth,
    My mental state went south.
    If weather represents my mood,
    You have just caused a typhoon.
    Tangerine, oh tangerine, an orange is what you seem to be.
    But take a bite; you’re as sour as my teacher in period three.
    To get to your insides, it’s as if I must bore.
    It takes so long, it truly is a bore.
    With rotten spots as dark as black holes,
    Are you really rotten? As far as I know.
    You’re covered with empty dots like stars in a galaxy,
    Tangerine, oh tangerine, I hate you because you hate me.
    Now I may be one of the few who makes my poem rhyme,
    But that’s because you taste even worse than lime.
    You’re so bumpy and lumpy, like a rock.
    Face it, tangerine: the orange is one fruit you can’t mock.
    You’ve got a massive bag of seeds.
    They’re rocks; they almost broke my teeth!
    The strongest bones I even have,
    You came in like a wrecking ball, and almost broke them in half.
    Tangerine, oh tangerine, your existence is a crime to me.
    Tangerine, oh tangerine, you make my face go green.
    Steve
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    Post by Steve Fri Jun 05, 2015 2:39 pm

    The Return

    The old days were great
    not the same as of late
    was it just fate?
    not so fast- but can confusion dissipate?

    I shall be telling this with a sigh
    Their's not to make reply
    Once upon a midnight dreary
    while I pondered weak and weary
    I knew the rest could outdo me
    Their emotions strong and tall and gloomy
    What emotions were in my air?
    None but distraught and despair
    love and power ruled their works
    They pumped them out, hundreds of works
    But to my name, a sad handful of works
    They were like machines in an industry of works
    But what did I love?
    Try as I might
    neither demon nor dove
    could I manifest that night
    they convey raw emotion in scores
    While I scrounge it up like one of my chores
    Pessimism, impersonating a Freudian
    comprised my capabilities

    Like a bullet to avoid again
    Dictionaries my only utilities
    How to compose from the heart?
    Make myself seem more than smart
    Treat the past like it makes me fall apart
    When it's something I avoid like a poisoned dart
    be carefree of political correctness
    learn to have in mind true effectiveness
    I've been depleted of things to criticize
    a writer's block of immense size
    what evokes emotion in you?
    That's what they said
    Good advice I already knew
    but useless for a tongue of lead.

    Through weeks of pondering
    they inquired greatly
    on what they thought was sauntering
    the reply was delivered faintly
    Would it ever end?
    will it ever end?
    I still don't know
    I'm just that type of person, you know
    no action in place?
    time to leave
    It's just a trait
    it makes me... me
    Just a second
    Just wait please
    This...
    This could be just what they meant
    This...
    Just what is it I have pinned?
    This...
    From forced outbursts it is time to repent
    Reflecting as they do
    Is it true?
    Is my mind not gray and old?
    Through simply letting thoughts unfold
    have I managed to strike gold?
    Through letting my thoughts run free
    lo and behold the key!
    It's time to return!
    Triumphant and great!
    with no ideas
    yet excited and fresh
    with superglue it's time to rebuild!
    I tore myself up when I knew i went wrong
    But it's time to pen like I knew i could all along
    Time to type
    don't follow the hype
    My heart and my mind
    with them, greatness I can find
    I never thought I'd be where I am now
    Want my perspective of how I've been endowed?
    I wrote with fallacy
    and great deals of jealousy
    I tore myself down
    And a great absence caused me to widen that frown
    Through lots of thinking, I've improved myself
    after legions of useless help
    From gloom to full bloom, I've reached my conclusion...



    ...Or was it all just an illusion?
    Steve
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    Post by Steve Fri Jun 05, 2015 2:39 pm

    Where are they now
    The rebels we loved
    With a swift hand
    This coalition
    Society and it's benefactors
    It's given us an easy alternative
    Ignorance is bliss, right?
    But you've got to practice what you preach
    Not that we'd understand
    We, who pour faith into those fiery enough
    We, who rely on those who actually resist
    We, who place our faith in foreign hands
    We, who explain that it's because we don't understand
    We, who are too busy
    We, who don't see it's not our fault
    We, who were raised under false teachings of "work harder"
    We, who never realized what was really going on
    We, who never realized until it was too late
    We, who fed our leaders complaints
    We, who fed our leaders empty calories
    We, who tried to fit in with rebellion
    We, who proceeded to recline
    We, who didn't take it far or wide
    We, who let our enemies take control of our lives
    We, who were afraid of the alternative
    We, who thought we were intelligent
    We, who said it was because we knew the odds
    We, who recognized intellect was important
    We, who didn't recognize that it wasn't that kind
    We, who lied to ourselves
    We, who placed fake confidence
    We, who let those we hated cement it
    We, who let the product of our concerned ancestors exist
    We, who let their corrupted spirits breathe down our necks
    We, who righted it with their pure intentions
    We, who shunned those who didn't agree
    We, who shunned those our commanders forced us to hate
    We, who were forced to accuse them of anarchy
    We, who got our thrills from imitating them
    We, who didn't know what that really meant
    We, who thought words could destroy
    We, who thought a bark could bite
    We, who assured ourselves that was all we needed to stand up
    We, who saved the action for those who truly cared
    We, who didn't want to become like the minority of comfortables
    We, who designated faux radicals
    We, who were afraid of becoming those people
    We, who never realized all along the truth
    We, who knew on the inside, in secret
    We, who didn't share the secret- that's for the commies
    We, who collectively realized, yet did not
    We, who were really those people our angels despised
    We, who really are those people
    You, who is that person
    I, who am that person
    Hailey
    Hailey


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    Post by Hailey Sat Jun 06, 2015 12:29 pm

    The Unseen Path (Parth)

    the broken foundation
    rested on backs
    which have long been broken
    tracing the tracks
    one finds corruption
    lives derailed
    like litter
    on the trail, dispersed
    kings toppled
    idealists turned extremists
    illusions of nobility
    shifts of tales
    from biased soul
    to yet another
    keep the truth
    from our brightest hopes
    a generation vexed
    bred for triumph
    programmed to believe
    without question
    the pills fed to them
    engineered by
    their forefathers
    their ancestors
    teachers
    mentors
    leaders
    idols
    sources
    creators
    sculptures
    molders
    masters
    puppeteers
    those who have remained
    at the top of the chain
    since the illusion began
    Setting the stage
    covering the struggling
    blanketing the broken
    the source of power
    condemning the innocent
    like a ventriloquist
    ethereal ruler
    A voice thrown flawlessly
    represented in media
    cast aside
    animatronics caught
    in another web of lies
    by a golden spider
    called upon to repair
    the vessel built
    built from the dust
    on the corrupted trail
    cannons of truth
    compact, powerful,
    their impact nullified
    tendrils exposed
    tendrils of power
    it is these moments
    these moments we question
    we read in between lines
    where space previously
    was non-existent
    the paradox now solved
    we catch glimpses
    glimpses of the truth
    cannonballs become fireballs
    missiles
    nukes
    the amnesia so common
    dispersed by the tendrils
    in moments of question
    it still exists
    but those of us
    the rebels
    the iconoclasts
    the idealists
    the radicals
    the noble
    we grab the light
    displaced to a mountain's peak
    here the flood
    the amnesiac fluids
    the blood of the tendrils
    it can't reach us here
    here we are dry
    here we are safe
    we regroup
    recover
    commit to our memory
    the flood dies down
    but tensions explode
    our emotions beg
    our morals implode
    we respond with nobility
    the same we once criticized
    we will do anything
    for rebellious neophytes
    with false authority
    we lash out
    too late for an apology
    ours is the apex of ideals
    the creators have failed
    preventing their blood
    from being passed on
    they could never prevail
    and unfortunately it seems
    the acorn has not fallen far from the tree
    the tyrants we despise
    they were once us
    let us see how we fare
    once their power
    is ours
    is this a triumph for truth?
    or a victory of fate?
    despite hopes
    dreams
    visions of change
    a cycle thereby proven
    unavoidable
    that is my question
    the one thing I ask
    has time truly shown the flaw we keep from ourselves?
    the one we deny
    the one we hide
    the one we ignore
    hoping it will leave our presence
    soon rebels become radicals
    radicals become kings
    kings become tyrants
    weaving the illusion of truth masterfully
    as they once were the only ones
    who could penetrate it
    patching up weaknesses
    following the example our forefathers set
    this is not as rare
    as you would expect
    examine history
    and watch it repeat itself
    each enlightenment
    different but the same
    creating a pattern
    piece by piece
    kingdom by kingdom
    ideal by ideal
    leader by leader
    revolution by revolution
    Steve
    Steve
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    Post by Steve Sat Jun 06, 2015 5:32 pm

    According to Mr. T's mother, i'm Rudyard Kipling...
    Steve
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    Post by Steve Sat Jun 06, 2015 5:32 pm

    Call me the riddler, because my poems are riddled with hidden meaning.
    Steve
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    Post by Steve Sat Jun 06, 2015 5:34 pm

    You forgot my short poem, the greatest in history:

    Yeet
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    Post by Steve Sat Jun 06, 2015 5:34 pm

    The metaphors are a window to the hidden meanings.
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    Post by Steve Sat Jun 06, 2015 5:35 pm

    Those are nothing. I've got some Cicada 3301 crap in those things...
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    Post by Steve Tue Jun 09, 2015 7:35 am

    The Feast of Sharth

    Nutty words
    Obliterated on Christmas day
    The sound of fire
    Blessing the cursed
    For there are no mortals
    Entailing our culture
    Revived by the spirit
    Of warm pixies and milkdust
    On a wild summer night
    At the other side of the world
    Wolves howl at the sun
    While the night evades this Olympic land
    Shadows quietly stalk their prey
    And it looks like it's time to break free of that festival
    Moral values crushed
    But i'm glued to my optimism
    Abundant in many ways
    Like the final feast, like coming full circle
    Hitting euphoria right on the mark
    In a time long preceding the final drink

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