If a paper can speak, then it has expressed his opinion
Those clue of thought a good point
To agree and like what you like
Problem is, money is an excuse
The need to belong tastes better
But you never get to the register with pockets full of lint
Town and city halls taste the samples
Sometime with scant enjoyment
Many chairs, many floors of feet
Yet, no voices lift in unison
The quota escaped, ran too fast with a number sign on the front sweater
Shell organizations want to earn prices but are missing a letter
Befallen victims, faces ashen color
Expediting the contrast of life history
Just call it blood water for now