This isn’t fair, it isn’t fair
Words like these
Fall into air
They smell so sour
Upon the hour
Rotting away like
A crumbling tower
Words like this,
Why can’t I, why can’t I
Are ten steps down
From a certain high
Like clipping one’s wings
To learn to fly
It reeks of waste
Like a putrid paste
And sinks like stones
Disgracing bones
And we condone
Words like such,
It seems to me
We munch and crunch
Every single evening
For our daily lunch
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