Times like these.

by Somethinger

These are the times of our lives

Swollen with abandon of our wills our bodies our minds

And waiting to burst but settling for softening.

These are the times of our stories

The same, like someone forgot to turn the page

Turn on the radio it has better news

(impending bombs may move us.)

Every day is a new old.

Every day is strewn gold

On the timelanes of our lives.

These are the times of our lives.

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