Unsurpassed because of the lack of effort,
The intensity gone from that which had such luster,
Like rain washing away the hill side during a heavy storm,
Much of this lackluster feel,
As the cream of society is poured into the new daily brew,
And is taken by those on their daily trip on the way out the front door,
Much to life seems to be a routine,
And such the drive that leads us to fall
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