Symptom

Vortex of entropy enveloped in clouds
Hand grenades and heroines among the crowds
What is the source of how lost we’ve become?
Its like every soul that walks is deaf, blind and dumb

Malaise for the every man is a fountain of gain
The rivers through which coarse only bought fame
So climb all the peaks and wish for more proof
These are the tolerances of loyalty gone poof

Siphon the hedgerows with shotguns and coals
Fanning the fires until life is worth less than bowls
Penchant for relative of the prophecy from don’t forgive
While down in the depths there is only bear with

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