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Sorry Stardom


You take pride in your grim sanity,
The half-smile in your eyes,
The incomplete passions
In that half-dead heart.
You rise up each morn
With a bowl of flakes of corn
And a very prickly thorn
That kills your appetite.
No one knows what’s wrong and
What on earth is right.
And you catch sight
Of chirpy, happy lads
That jump up from bed
And run all day
With spirits bright red.
They smile a real smile
Sometimes hidden by the borrowed style
That you and your lot
Have given them as a gift.
Reaching there was good-
Lovely girls and wine and food.
But look what you have left behind-
The merry, hungry boy
That wasn’t half as blind. 

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