And listen to me beg and cry,

While words can’t listen,

And I can’t die,

And all I have inside is a faint try

Of doing this

As if

It has a sense.

And yet I’m not surprised,

As I beg, and as I cry,

That words don’t listen,

And yet I die.

In me there’s do, but there’s no don’t,

And there’s no try.

Doing this

As if it has a sense

Makes me feel a bit dense.

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