To be stressed or not to be stressed -- that is the question.
Whether tis nobler in the mind to ignore
The calls of anguish from the outrageous people knocking at your door
Or throw arms around the knees of trouble
And by enclosing, escape them. To cry, to eat --
No more -- and to eat we mean to say we drown
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to. Tis consuming this
Of what we cannot dream. To cry, to eat --
To eat -- perchance to satisfy: ay, there's the rub.
For in the devouring of foods we should not eat
We have stuffed ourselves to breaking this mortal coil,
Yet cannot pause. There's the regret
That makes such a calamity of life.
For who would bear the stress and pain of time,
The confessor's song, the lost man's confudedly,
The pangs of hunger lost, the car's delay,
The eloquence of losses, and the yearns
For fridges to close their endless drift.
When I myself might make a quietus
Of this humble burger. Who would tumbles bear
To hunt and sweat for a better light
But to scared for sight of a hurting land.
An undiscovered longing, that brutal call,
That no traveler dare ignor. Muzzle thy will,
And call not to those ills I know I have.
Let me be light, to fly from this weary door!
But my conscience is far cowardly than all,
And my hard won resolution doth fade
And is covered over with a fare, parched drought,
A thing of great purpose, drowning sorrow.
WIth this desision, my mouth doth open now to take
And lose that frost of action -- Soft you now,
I have forgotten! -- This correlation of food and thought
Is not so, and the meaning is lost in monnolouge...
Yeah.... That happened....
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Recipient of Mickey's Respect
Krista the Key
Will you give all you can give
So that our banner may advance?
Some will fall and some will live
Will you stand up and take your chance?