You tell me that you've found a better way
And I tell you that it isn't fucking sane
Everything that I wanted has broke down
They all think that I'm just a fucking clown
But everybody's telling me I gotta move faster
Everybody's telling me that I'm a fucking bastard
All my dreams were just islands in the sky
What do you expect from a critic that supports a fat orange owl and pretends he's a god (to borrow a page from Thurber)?
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