Oh it's all good at the moment, why can't
It always be? Well the answer to that
Is that if there wasn't bad, there couldn't
Be good, it would all in fact be grey, flat
Like permanently living in Pripyat
Or Shetland, North Scotland, or Alaska
Somewhere cold and northern, where you need fat
And there are no vitamins of solar
Source, no soul to speak of, just ground molar
Against molar, till the end's found. The hunt
For happiness is often put off. What
An easy route, a sellout, civil war
Where cowardice wins, where the head kills heart
Where excitement is slain all for comfort
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