Items

The items
We know how to sort them
But what will you do?
If your items are not what you think they are
An outlet for the druggies not on the black market
Silver feeds into your machine
But do you ever take it out?
All you know, and all you do
Malaise has taken over your spirit
And for what?
A few days of buzz
Nothing good can come of that
You ought to be ever uncertain

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