He's coming. I hear him
The light is in his eyes
And yet his own decision
I stood off to the side
Clearly all the things you say
A shame: Vain and coward cries
What else concealed? Plenty
Ultimately, I must decide
And purpose no clear goal
But even so, you know the answer
In the same breath keep control
Time and motion seem suspended
Day after day and so typically
Finds its outer limit that kind of vanity
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