papers called "money" killing people.
my obsessed brain is going to burst.
peeled off the skin like an apple
and it's inside that's been damaged first.
still running with my empty hands
they're too weak to hold any cash.
my tired legs looking for a golden land.
but the bone inside has turned to ash.
I lost myself in the adventure.
people on the sidewalk is watching
rumours spreading for their pleasure
there's no stick to keep me standing
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