The path isn't golden, but gold plated overlay.
The birds aren't singing, it's just a record replaying.
The diamonds of hope aren't diamonds at all;
but fancy cut glass of wish shortfalls.
Not seeing the storm, blinded by sunshine;
rude awakening drenched me with a down pour of
why...
Why lie?
Why pretend?
Why promise me everything,
when you knew you could deliver nothing?
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