Flesh and bone built this town. My father and a hundred men like him. Broke ground for brighter futures, spent their lives below the surface. Black, dust-filled lungs, hear the damage in the songs they sung. My hands are soft and my heart grows harder every day.
Death is living someone else's standards, not thinking on your own. It will never be good enough, and I've realized I don't give a fuck.
Fuck you, I don't care enough. Fuck you, I don't care at all.
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