They come in small oceans
Of withdrawn emotions
Next to change they hate their day
Another hope against the American Way.
Always listening for a narrow cavity of neglect
Always looking for a passion of regret.
The Tax Man has his wizards
They stomp their way to the day
But the world is not a pleasure dome
And the home of sovereignty is not a commissioned affair.
So the Tax Man has his little lips
And the remainder of America has many ships
The end of his days are at his own advice.
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