He's like the suit that fits but I'm not in the market for a suit. Been wearing my old clothes from before at this new job. The problem with the suit is I sure as hell don't want second hand shit. Lies. All mine stuff. I know I ain't nothing but a poor dumb mannequin with no holes there but my head is cocked and ready. Still gazin' and arms slightly bent. But what does it all matter in the stillness of the window?
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