Skinner

Some days the rats hit the button and leave the cheese.
I wake up to a hungry world, throw my arms high,
crane my head to the sun, stare it in the eye,
do every bad thing that makes life worth living
Go north on the highway,  without a thought of forgiving.

Some days the rats hit the button and leave the cheese.
When the sun goes down I’ll crawl back to my tomb
Through the streets, dumb to the shouts of doom.
Sure the sky is falling – and why should I care?
I couldn’t find anything worth protecting anywhere.

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