I can't quite take the bounds of life,
It feels like a puppet marching to the creation of rules by egoistic fools,
I want to create a rebellion,
Unfortunately the rebellion requires deceiving assimilation.
Baby don't be a snoot,
For the challenge requires a versatile actor,
Or else you'll be fed the ashes of the last resort,
Enter the remise of your words,
For only your regrets shall reign over you.
I was never as dazed as I am today,
These dangerous waters with viscous reptiles,
Hounding me for the lack of satisfaction,
Cursing me for the sands of an eccentric shade...
Fools that happen to have the paper of my fate,
But the fact of the matter is that paper's always mine,
As apparent as the curse of being insane,
So yet again, do I vain for vain or instinct?
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