A Fake Hollywood (Free verse) by Blindpoetry
Space is the final piece of land
We need more Hollywood Nation
Stopped by a dirtry hand
Forget about the sea and work on our plantation
Dodge this, there is to much work
We'll drive slaves station to station
Broken tears land on many heads
Where are our Hollywood Fantasies?
Trains may crash and land on beds
But passengers still dream of Fake Tragedies
Why is everyone transferring to this cult?
We're ditching all of the endless possibilities
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