I see the gilded mirrors
and feel their glaze spill over me.
The tv flickers, and I spill into its story.
When will the gilding touch my heart?
How shall I justify the flicker of my conscience?
and feel their glaze spill over me.
The tv flickers, and I spill into its story.
When will the gilding touch my heart?
How shall I justify the flicker of my conscience?
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