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While they all run about masquerading

I’m just here wishing I wasn’t waiting

Bringing up these existential inquiries

Envisioning incidental individual modes I see

What would I do you ask me?

Why without much thought I’d tell you be free

Yet while standing here serves to remind

Of all the things I’ve left behind

I know who I am, I want this assuredly

Wouldn’t it be nice to quit all this hurrying?

When days seem to merge, isn’t it absurd?