What will it be when I have caught up
to them and there are no more student loan
payments the anger in their voices at my loan
it lingers lingers like in that lingering song
my hand in the clear one day one day turning
brass handles of my future without debt newborn
American solid instead of a mass of whirling cells
that don't settle down smooth as glass I mean
borrowed gleaming future of America's got talent
in the good taste of the judges their sorrow absent.
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