It's best this mess is part of the plan
The truth is moving under the ground
You're sure the steering wheel
You think success belongs to the bank
You take directions into the skin
An ancient motor revving up
Strings tied to the hands
The path is written before the act
A mode of growing seems like a choice
Is a product of a hidden game
You measure hits by stuff in the house
It's more sincerely smiles on the face
The instinct leads you if you do
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