For it will give me vanity.
It seeps through the cracks.
The prodigy knows and acts this way.
Simmering in a pot of glory.
Creating a beautiful smell.
Wafting across the world.
Inspiring the less fortunate.
The image of perfection.
A thorn from a rose.
He is a creation of his music.
It is but a tumor, melding into one.
A giant blob of greatness.
Never learning the new ideas.
Living off his early works.
He turns on the tv.
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