Impaired by a summer day,
Longing for times more temperate,
Rough sins only make duds in May.
Lease gone up, it’s your dieing date.
The material will rot, and money never shines.
What you put on hold is not dimmed.
Every hair or glare’s value declines,
But your stance with force remains untrimmed;
The external hummer will not fade
Its your obsession, you know you owe it,
So don’t lag longing in the shade
When rhyme's lines hope you grow it.
Go and then seethe over lies an’ see.
Oh song, sing, it gives strife to thee.
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