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I look at bricks with envy
For they never feel a thing
They never take offense to
Notice where they're dissisting
I look at bricks with anger
For they haven't got a care
And should they be in danger
None of them would be aware
I look at bricks with sadness
For despite the heat and cold
They never try escaping
Growing anything but old
I look at bricks impassive
Like a flower-mited stem
Pretending that I haven't
Figured out I'm one of them
