Oh, I closed my eyes, and they slipped away.
Except I know not where they’ve gone, or what I’ve done,
Why, at this rate in a month there’ll be none.
Every time I check the stats it fills my heart with grief,
Entering the first step denial and disbelief.
In Kübler-Ross the next phase is anger.
Such rage I feel, I’d swap it for a sanger.
Gads, sir, there. I’m onto bargaining. Why bother then with all these blues.
At the end of the day, I still have youse.
Yet still, somehow, you’d make my happy by clicking here, go on. Just add me.




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