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swim.float.drown

He's always got something he's hiding and it's making him unwell.

Face to face he keeps on smiling, but it echoes in his shell.

Pen to paper breaks the fall.

He tries his best at standing tall.

We pass the time inventing lies!

We wish they're true, and yours & mine.

He sits alone inside the shower, memories running through his hair.

The hardest part is there's no anger: it was justified and fair.

What the hell will happen now?

Will he swim, or float, or drown?

(Swim, float or drown?)

We pass the time inventing lies!

We wish they're true, and yours & mine.

The poet stands alone inside his head and starts to sink,

Until the suffocating rehabilitator starts to think.

And now he sits up on the moon, looking down at his creation,

As time goes by, we'll be alright, provided we are patient 'cause...

Pen to paper breaks the fall.

Or does it?

I invented lies inside my head, but now I need the truth instead.

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