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Target



it’s cold outside and my hands are dry
skin is cracked and i realize
that i hate the sound of guitars
a thousand grudging young millionaires

forcing silence sucking sound
forced into this conversation

so i say shine let their planets collide
this is the darkening down of my mind
we could be making it oiling like crime
we could be making it staking last dimes
(but) if you want to seize the sound
you don’t need a reservation

the torch is passed it’s yours to return
lay at their feet now use it to burn
for marketing the use of the word generation
a false alliance of money persuading

forcing silence sucking sound
forced into this conversation

if you want to seize the sound
you don’t need a reservation

so open so young so target
i can smell your heart
you’re a target

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