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Your peasants are in revolt again
a thousand strings of consciousness that find no
Daytime release

Your nights are sugar-fucked again
Coated with a sticky film
of sour-smelling memories

You take care of yourself
You’ve kicked coffee (OK not alcohol)
stopped eating red meat
you’re doing better

but sooner or later
All this shit’s gonna have it’s way
until your dreams come out in color again
and you start to stammer speak in rhyme