
All of my perceptions wield the flag of destruction,
My neighbors with the luxury home of perfection,
So! Yes, I'll do a thousand and thousand objections,
Because my life is running out of perfection
Oh! I'm writing a book of complaints
In a coliseum; I risk but fall to demote,
So how did my friend gain a victory vote?
I'm just driving on the road of Erode,
What an insane trek on which I rode,
So, I'm writing a book of complaints
I've just not seen the fire flame,
But I did discern the fire extinguisher to tame,
But instead of becoming a hero in that game,
Perhaps! The easier way to put the blame,
Oh! Complaints are giving me such pain.
My sight was on the riders of the golden train,
with a weary sigh, oh! I return to the violet garden of my fain,
But I realized, my unconcern ruined it all again,
Too much rain was not but grumbling was my pain.
Alas! This book of complaint.
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