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There is nothing I can do.

A month has passed in a years time

a second waits for a decade

a century passes unnoticed

and a penny stands on end.

Nothing, just nothing I can do.

A blade of grass struggles to the sky

there is an orange glow around the sun

a sleepy man digests his hamburger

and a nun contemplates suicide.

No no nothing can be done.

But sink that spade into the moist earth

plot another witty conversation

stroke the cats ear while lying down

corner the market

and ply your trade.

Just know that there is nothing you can do.

Why do you protest,

why the long face of indignation?

You are saying the utmost thing

and it drops to the ground

and immediately begins to mold.

So what of you all puffed up and annoyed

I bring you down, you say?

Where is your left foot?

You didn’t think of it till now, did you?

Don’t you see, for all you have done

there is nothing you can do.

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