Now life is a little unclear.
But you don't really care.
Who has lost everything?
Then left with not a thing.
We'd lick the emotional tear.
Only to realize it was fear.
No venture can calm our dolor.
Grab a bag, drain your bladder.
We have no tents to fold.
But we have hearts of gold,
Behind a voice of doom.
We will face the simoom.
After the deface is paid.
And the haboob a fade.
Life tides in unreliable art.
Must you not stage your part?
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