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Hooked
It know it’s bad for me,
 I know that I should stop,
 I know it’s killing me,
 That it’s running down my clock,
 But I’ve been bit
 So I take another hit.
 I wake up, I’m a mess,
 I’m feeling pretty bad.
 And I start to get dressed,
 And I start to get mad,
 Because I’ve been bit
 And I can’t live without it.
 So I make some more
 And start the day’s chores
 And before very long,
 Again, it’s all gone.
 But it fills me up,
 Like a warm syrup,
 With energy and power
 That lasts through the hours.
 It’s stung me like a bee
 And I make another pot of coffee.

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