As fast as you can,
Passing doors and passageways,
Without knowing where you've ran,
Running for fear of nothing,
You know anything about,
And not learning anything,
You know anything about,
And still complaining you have no time,
To get anything done.
Stop and look inside of you,
For some direction.
Because, it's alright,
To flail around,
If there is some sort of intent,
And you're not just unsound.
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