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What future's predecided for this; A
wrested dreamer
Born to the mass production groan?
Put 'em up. Take 'em down.
Put 'em in. Take 'em out.
Poor and pathetic is my will; A
restless screamer
Packed away with 'my kind'
Like stinkin' sardines in a can.
Captured in my escape for freedom,
My feelings and flesh so well processed,
Forever tryin' to redeem 'em.

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The following comments are for "Indeed"
by damifino

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