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The Club is in need of Moderation, Among Other Things.

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I'm sick of the little things you do,
Making it known that you didn't fail.
Changing the scene to make it less obscene.
It might just be another charming fact that
Becomes your being.
But who am I to talk?
I'm just as bad, and make you just as sad.
Neither one of us will change,
Neither one will accept the cold rain,
Living for each other but also needing that
Final Closure.
If that tempest could just be entrenched,
Maybe we'd get a chance to be the best.





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