The lights you think are redemption
The lights that you think are release,
That playfully dance away from your hands,
With such maddening ease.
The lights you think are asylum
The lights that you think are home,
Hang onto strings that're cold-hearted things,
Want you forever to roam.
If only your mind was as cosy
To comfort your exhausted soul,
But there will be no rest, that is what's best,
for the idle are the devil's to cajole.
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