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What is the meaning of life?
Here goes that question again, and just like last time it bothers me till I'm dizzy and spin. What I'm here for, is it not clear to see? All this goodness and yet damnation is all that awaits me? I'm tired of fighting and pleading, planting a seed is supposed to be what I'm feeding. Bleeding and teething on a wheeless display, dismay and disarray flying in to blow my day, with my hands raised to the clouds to say, "why oh why, may I just have a say on the things that go down today?"
But blasting out of the waters I come steaming, quarreled and kept by last nights dreaming. I saw, stood up on his feet, a man with two horns plucking away at meat.
Then he gazed at me with eyes ablaze, carrying me away into a dead-like haze where my mind rules a maze, and everyday I navigate this Lazarus, hazardous and madly provocative with a knock and shove that leaves me on my seat.
Days will tick, moments gone to the minutes with no decadence being the object of my descent. How could it be when I hardly own a penny? Again he knocks across my globe, two horns ripping a flow of blood to save see water for a tree, nothing I plant is growing.
Here goes that question again, and just like last time it bothers me till I'm dizzy and spin. What I'm here for, is it not clear to see? All this goodness and yet damnation is all that awaits me? I'm tired of fighting and pleading, planting a seed is supposed to be what I'm feeding. Bleeding and teething on a wheeless display, dismay and disarray flying in to blow my day, with my hands raised to the clouds to say, "why oh why, may I just have a say on the things that go down today?"
But blasting out of the waters I come steaming, quarreled and kept by last nights dreaming. I saw, stood up on his feet, a man with two horns plucking away at meat.
Then he gazed at me with eyes ablaze, carrying me away into a dead-like haze where my mind rules a maze, and everyday I navigate this Lazarus, hazardous and madly provocative with a knock and shove that leaves me on my seat.
Days will tick, moments gone to the minutes with no decadence being the object of my descent. How could it be when I hardly own a penny? Again he knocks across my globe, two horns ripping a flow of blood to save see water for a tree, nothing I plant is growing.
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