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Don’t read into it

It’s the same old bullshit, just a different day

Dad knows this is the best time to reach me, and he told his lawyer that

He knows no one is here but ed since I used to work for him

The phone rattles again There’s so desperate to the sound of a call while the city sleeps Almost eerie

This ti silence blankets me I pretend, for a moment, my father never sold his soul Or try to The past is so far rerasp it

In his glory days, e funds in the city Fuck city—he ran one of the largest funds in the world

He made a lot of men very rich

Made a lot of people very poor, too, as a direct result

I’m not sure how it happened One day, he could hop on a private jet to Saint Tropez for a quick dip in the ocean The next, he couldn’t even afford an economy-class ticket to Florida He lost it all

Not just his money, either Desperate to refill his coffers, he entered an underground poker game, sold his soul to the devil, and became a monster

Raising ht out ofwith the scent of the office Where traces of his betrayal seep into every inch, every second, every decision

I still run a hedge But instead of just getting money from trust-fund babies, I also house money for the scariest motherfuckers out there

In the end, I ended up being no better than the man I hate

Unlike hiht with my choices

Which is ironic, since at the moment, I can’t relax, no matter how hard I try The phone call froet

I push up out of my chair and head to my private bathroom to throw on sweats, a T-shirt, and sneakers

Going for a run will clear my brain

This always happens whenever my shit of a father reaches out

And like clockwork, he always does

I take the private elevator that leads to the ground floor and nod to the door