Conservativille and Spirit City
Two beat musicians trying to play my song
Two dimensional painters trying to portray my face,
They don’t see that my face is long
They don’t hear the tempo or the base,
Let’s get out of this place;
To where the people genuinely care
Lines are not needlessly stark,
No one looks at you with a pompous stare
The light actually shines in the dark,
And everyone knows they’ve missed the mark.
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