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| | | Artist | | | Album | | | Song | Sad Professor |
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If we're talking about love
Then I have to tell you
Dear readersI'm not sure where I'm headed.
I've gotten lost before.
I've woke up stone drunk
Face down in the floor.
Late afternoonthe house is hot.
I startedI jumped up.
Everyone hates a bore.
Everybody hates a drunk.
This may be a lit invention
Professors muddled in their intent
To try to rope in followers
To float their malcontent.
As for this reader
I'm already spent.
Late afternoonthe house is hot.
I startedI jumped up.
Everyone hates a sad professor.
I hate where I wound up.
Dear readersmy apologies.
I'm drifting in and out of sleep.
Long silence presents the tragedies
Of love. Not the age. Get afraid.
The surface hazy with attendant thoughts.
A lazy eye metaphor on the rock.
Late afternoonthe house is hot.
I startedI jumped up.
Everyone hates a bore.
Everybody hates a drunk.
Everyone hates a sad professor.
I hate where I wound up.
I hate where I wound up.
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