Can't leave things anymore,
That are so integral to my mind's health,
That I'll be left life-poor,
Even if I somehow get filthy rich,
And can live on a beach,
Which really is my heart's deep fantasy,
If I just lied there it would still need seek,
Just like my mom told me when I was young,
Tell the Un'verse your needs,
But don't just sit and wait for them to come,
Or it can't plant the seeds,
It needs good soil,
Enriched with your desire,
A commitment to face what life gives you,
Lest lethergy become your fun'ral pyre.
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