What can I say?
What is with this day–
words of wisdom,
wisely depraved.

I’m sick of doubt,
relentless sorrow–
being locked out,
never seeing tomorrow.

Why do we run?
To escape the sun?
Where can we go?
To an old film show?

Who is the one,
called to come,
where’s their name?
Lost to the sun.
“The words of wisdom,
all but forgotten.
Will they be remembered
in the final sum?

It moves with a singular certainty
as if all is meant to pass,
Time, the great uniformity,
A shepherd of lad and lass.

We are all one,
under the sun,
we all become,
once frightened, undone.

But stars sing a song,
ever distant, never wrong:
Won’t you come, come along,
help yourself,
help someone,
avoid the prong?

We all feel pleasure,
we all know pain
and in the end,
we all lose the game.

When will we see?
When will it reign?
there can be no pleasure,
without pain
That it’s the only reason,
for the rain.

In the end we all succumb.
Yes, an end, will surely come–
end of light, of dark and then some,
end of days, lost to flight, all progress to be undone.