Why I Stopped Living and Became a Mixed-up Zombie

Waiting for the train i was wondering when exactly i started to live under this rock
maybe in manchester..hiding in miami..alone drinking myself to sleep in the doldrum of florida counties
we all eventually get one with our names carved oh so pretty into it
next to that horrible bench surrounded by staring angels
mausoleums with overgrown weeds that the caretaker has neglected
it might be safer under here the way it seems
the view isnt all that bad
my mobile phone works so maybe i will send myself a wreath
at least until i  clear the sod and crawl out


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