We're treading on potato chips
all about the house.
We forgot to clean the party up
now we're playing Strauss.
The waltz is wearing weary
We're dancing on the crumbs.
See us flounder fleetingly
in the sledge
of our lives
all the lies?
The potato chips are broken.
I'm beginning not to care.
They are there.
They are there.
So why care?
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