They don’t think beauty common

That’s the problem if ya lift the lid

Each is a bloody Boston Brahmin

Every good thing must be hid

It has to be so esoteric

Cause otherwise how would the wise claim to have uncommon eyes

This renders everything generic

So endless they philosophize

Straining to remove magic

Lest the thing be massive or o so tragic

What else is pretty what else profound

Nothing nothing

Each and everyman has found

Well I for one think there is absolutely nothing that separates the pauper from the king

As long as the former fool can somewhat sing

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