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Rated: E · Lyrics · Personal · #1236933
a song about being sick of a processed life.
repedativity.
(repedativity.)
A lot of things never change.
Routine activities
go on for centuries.
Nothing now is strange.

Common abilities,
today we're all lazy.
All of us sit here to age.
Nobody new to please,
I want a life of ease.
Somebody's got to turn the page.

We live, Then die.
Life flies right by.
If nothing changes,
then we mind as well fly

Fly away to somewhere new.
Above the clouds, beyond you.

Away from this one toned world of gloom.
We should paint everything black and white
with grey polka dots.
That's all that I see.

Traditions mean nothing, nothing at all.
They're bad excuses to never change the world.
Never trying new things to make things fun,
always the same thing just to get it done.

To me it shows a lack of care.
The thought doesn't count because the thoughts not there.
It's just a habit that never leaves.
Something to live for, but it misleads.
© Copyright 2007 grusblot (grusblot at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1236933-