The sky is quiet
The world does not smile
No one breaks a sweat to whipe a sweat
It is an uncomfortable state
When the best is not good enough
When escape is another prison
When the solution is falling of a glass from a drunken hand
And it is the only solution
As hard as it is
It is the only hope
With no hope of being understood
When hopeless gives more promise
When gloom looks like the prize
And it draws the moth to a pressure lamp
And that is it
The world is quiet
No one tells the story
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