Who pays our bills
While singing our praises
Whose cup should be filled
With the blue of our blazes
It is those who don’t care
If our white balance fails
The ones, unaware
Unable to tell
We call it ignorance
A happy, naive
We’d kill to convince
But they’ll still never see
Pulling tricks from our hat
Shows no reward
Our purpose feels flat
Our talents, ignored
Migrating elsewhere
We feed our...
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