Mission after equates
To perpetual turbulence.
Something missing in the strands
That keep us finite.
Without gravy,
Without ambition,
And Success is Limited
To Happy Things.
So these Happy Things
Haunt us
To do something about it
And there is no one
But the conscious mind to defeat
And spooky sound avoidance
Will bring us to more content times
If one does not find themselves happy.
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