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The Universal Complaint

Features and faces, drawn out of time. TV news stations, radio setlists, burning images through the flames. Dances in echoes, jumping from windows, an evergrowing set of circumstances I will never understand. Cut the clues and clean yourself in, dreaming of a better tomorrow.

Loving relationships, long cycles through time. Feeding the frenzy that burns from within. Falling asleep under the blankets of time. You damage me so much, I feel as though I haven't had time for her at all. A constant staring into the abyss and wondering where I go when you're not here. It's called the new apprehension.

Cutting from deadlines and delayed messages, one hopeless sentence that will wash me away. Keep feeling as inept and featureless through distant memories that fall by the wayside. Clue myself in with the terms that'll haunt me for the rest of my life. You're a big boy now, you should know these things. Spend my time criticising the universal complaint as I'm part of it all now. Spend your life in a free-for-all.

A textural treat, one that keeps us going. How many hours are we going to do today? How many days are we going to do this week? What's the overall effect. If all I had to do was click a pen to feel important, I'd be made for life. If all I had was taken away, they might as well just take me away as well. A summer holiday where nobody knows my name.

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