| what is the giver really taking?
|
| is it the taker?
|
| who’s directing traffic here, anyway?
|
| are there no strategies
|
| to win in love?
|
| who invented immortality anyway?
|
| where have your virtues taken you
|
| along with your search for meaning?
|
| climbing and staggering your pitiful
|
| existence
|
| while bargaining for time.
|
| where do our morals come from?
|
| were they inflicted?
|
| what’s in a blood line anyway?
|
| why are we led to slaughter?
|
| we can find it ourselves.
|
| who’s calling my number here, anyway?
|
| slave, grind that wheel of endless cycles.
|
| grip hard to endure
|
| hours and hours of damnation
|
| spinning throughout this haste and
|
| confusion
|
| yes! |
| there’s hope on the other end of
|
| those strings
|
| why do we get back up when the next fall
|
| is so much harder?
|
| who’s setting examples here, anyway?
|
| when are we going to find something
|
| truly worth suffering for?
|
| why make sense of this, anyway?
|
| picture a world so simple and thoughtful
|
| with smiling neighbors, grapestick fences
|
| and images falling from the sky
|
| blessing you with contentment. |