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The Ordinal

I’ve lived for the feelings of others, That’s a listening of sorts, What have I learnt? That self Is bitumen, black as tar, Oh, how slowly we flow, oh How slowly we flow, we crack with age. I’ve lived for the feelings of others, A philosophy of sorts. I’ve heard Self give up its final word, Coughs and whispers in Hospitals and nursing homes. Oh, how slowly we flow, oh.

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