Take a stone tablet and you can build a society based on rules,
But you couldn't build a roof.
You couldn't give me proof,
Because your touch was no longer muscle memory,
Your spirit was a conjecture and your body was its projection.
Baby, it's exactly what you are.
Being reserved won't give you your protection
From those wide-sighted racketeers,
Those garbage can bangers narrowing truth down in your ears,
And facetiousness won't put the gavel in your hand,
This is not wisdom, it's getting older with a period at the end.
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