My Career as a Journalist (Makes Sense Not to Me)

I want to write about the world

So I can inform the masses that

The masses that

Gather in the small town squares

Staring at the sky for the sun to appear

The sun to appear

They'll know

Everything, everything that nobody else will say

To them

Maybe they'll appear at night

The stars that are blocked by the city light

One day they might

One day they might

When we all scream

Skin will be dripping down down down down down down


Hair ripped from their tiny heads

They'll be screaming

We'll be bleeding

Out of our empty eye sockets our eyeballs have been


Buildings are falling on the populace

We're dead

We're dead

But we'll start over

We'll start over

Staring at the sky

We can see the stars now

No obstructions

No light bulbs to block and

Nothing to paint the sky and nature

Lives on

Given just another chance

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