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Small chances, I would not make it Big world, there is no space for me Fast days, times change just to fit Sad letters, I write with melancholy
To what do I owe the pleasure Of watching others succeed before me To what do I have to pray to Just so I could fulfill dreams, truly
Game vices, I obsess over trivial things Dame dances even when there's no mind Lean cinches, my neck is poised to break Shame vicious, there is no saving from kind
