| Procrastination on the empty vessel
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| Roll over and over to take a breather
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| Is this dereliction of duty
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| To no throw a giant stick in the works?
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| To labour so rigidly,
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| Fleeing safe havens of natural beauty
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| Procrastination on the empty vessel
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| Toil to the bone so the machines roll on Is this vague assumption
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| That a call to a halt will signal our untimely end?
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| To labour so rigidly, all the safe havens of natural
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| Beauty just merge into form
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| Not to be seen, tasted, touched or felt
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| We don’t believe that we have the nerve
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| We can believe that refusal won’t hurt
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| We don’t believe much in… ourselves
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| Nil retribution on the empty vessel
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| Bracing ourselves as we smashed our routine
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| This feels like liberation
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| Or a call to a halt that signalled
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| Our untimely end (?)
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| To have laboured so rigidly,
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| Barred from safe havens of natural beauty.
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| We don’t believe that we have the nerve
|
| We can believe that refusal won’t hurt
|
| We don’t believe much in… ourselves |