Omenomics: I will sell you the future
If you believe me enough
And I will point to things
Birds
Stones
The way your dreams burn you clean
Until you wake up covered in sweat
Heart beating
And I will sell you back your own anger
I will be the mirror by which you flex
And I will point to how the movement
Of stars and gravity paint your muscles
No one likes to dream alone
And they are never free
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