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do i still have the voice of an angel
to the devil down the street
does he burn a little more
inside the words that repeat
in his mind(,) are my wings clipped
or am i now set free(,) outside
i’m an ant under the stars
and he’s the gunslinger from mars
gas station camera never blinking
while it watches me freeze
around my lemonade
victim to processed sugar
and carefully conniving words
my soul sold for 2.12
i was pure before i was pulverized