I looked to the sky for refinement, you told me there'd be answers there. But I've received not one in these odd fifty years, my time expanding to the bursting point. POP! goes clarity, POP! goes truth, and here I'm left with no spectacles for these remaining days. Help me to see the way, get me off my ass and out the door and make some change. I'll keep living, I'll keep grinding on, but I've done my part and asked. Now someone, somewhere, up there, all around, has to lend a hand.
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