February 26, 2012
Call me back to the front and tear at me as a daily routine
Of course it was my lecturing, that's all that would get through
Make my blood turn to fuel, and these dull eyes begin to glow
Even if I seem too lifeless and tired, and salt water dry.

Between the silver and the black, hope hung on the tip
Apart from the rest, my gears rusting with countless gallons of water
Can't anybody see the wires are chewed, likely from the rats they let in?
Keep away those damned pests, or I promise you that I'm done here.

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