I wonder how tall the pile would be
of all the things that once belonged to me
and if i fished about would i find anything i took pride in?
I want to live beneath the pile
I'd carve my home within
Beneath the plastic bits and wires
I'd find a way to live
And after a month or two
When things would start to smell
My waste would form a kind of glue
It'd all become a shell
And I could sleep forever
And we'd all start to rot
I'd finally be buried
Beneath everything I had ever bought
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