Swan begins with an ultimatum
Itch or scratch. Push button bubbles.
Lose track and will the wants of last
Be wanted morning. Now just
The voice of air, can there be sharp edges
Just took it home to prove something was over
It just stuck and what had been it had a new name
Trash. Derelict swan amongst the cans.
Bullet proof vested interests walking through walls.
Step away from the word and aimlessly
Charge the battery burning as much as you do
Fret this a bit, you slept through the attacks.
Burning nostalgia at both ends
To reduce stimulus to zero, no, rather
Playing lost object with one's sense of agency.
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