Life in black and white so simple a time

Modern life is an epoch from sublime

The many things we have to endure

Cause many an anguish and this is for sure

Countless days all since gone by

A final resting place I might lie

The world filled with selflish shame

I swore I would not be the same

But suffer I have year in and year out

Luck is something always gone without

Despite good deeds been done for years

One is always reduced to forced back tears


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