H.S.
Plunger

All these old facesnsmiling and laughingnBut you never leave fourteennYou idle aroundnI am not here for younI don't know what fornBut it's not for younYou are the lies I've toldnthe lies I've heardnThe days that make my head hang lownYou speak of all that I despisenDemean all that I hold dearnYet we look at each other and smilenI only want to get away.

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