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  • Writer's pictureMartin Wardley

For a song

They’ve smoothed out all your edges

And dampened all your differences

Polished all your character

While Irradiating nuances

And you let them for a soupçon of a song

Idiosyncrasies were stolen

Blending all of your distinctions

Enfeebling your power

While hiding your convictions

And you let them for a soupçon of a song

And now the spark that used to differentiate

Is jaded by design of your associates

Generic flies while unique eyes depreciate

And so much more than worst of all these wrongs

You let them for a soupçon of a song

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