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Just Like That Robert Frost Poem


in the morning when you wake up

and pour the coffee in your coffee cup

oh the skies are never ending

and the mounds are made of buttercup


is there a heaven i wonder

is there a hell down under us


maybe so, i don't know, i don't know . . .

but mostly i don't care


it's just like that robert frost poem

so for those who go on dying in their cloak

and underwear


that too is awful nice 

and it shall suffice

what is life if not wholly unfair?




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