let’s work, push those papers,
pusha T dreams in paper
shift the carriage, and be the type
of writer that CAN
ride inspiration and cobblestone
figure all his characters on a soft couch
behind an old desk
with soft parade and pride
all the paper balls in a pile
fingers caught, falling between keys
keys keys open doors
musical chairs need to stall
for good, so I can sit
on the soft couch drinking a parade
behind a hard desk with a bald face
piece of paper finally full


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