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From this window I watch the weekend drunks stumble home for the night, while the kids with fireworks keep me awake, but I can hardly blame when this is all they know.

It seems we’re made to suffer; it is our lot in life.

I watch these blue lights flash, hear the shouts from up the street, but the cold is coming in, turn my back on everything.

I can’t see into the next year but hope for something that’ll change.

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