Commodities/Reborn

The bedroom on which I sleep

The roof on which I gaze

And the fireplace in which I burn

I am your commodities

This candelabra won’t last

We’re all lost in the woods

To put it lightly, we’re all saints

And an ounce of wandering can yield hefty sums/returns

So keep it clean, Mr. Doolittle

Keep it static

Let abundance fill you and destroy you so you are born anew

The phoenix inside.

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