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Standing at a distance Collecting measured, empty fiction. Syndicated day-time faces Spin the world into their favor. (And there's dead air on the airwaves) The news at six, a foolish fix A comfort from the working shift The vehicle to rubberneck At the cars crashed miles away We gawk, we tread, We count the number dead. Commercials for the coming war Watch the ratings soar This is what I strain to see Standing at a distance. From Letras Mania