Life is an odd sort of existence
Life is an odd sort of existence Filled with all kinds of pretense and remittance No one is earnest with their thoughts or desires Only wanting to fan the fires Never thinking about what their thoughts and actions create Only desire is to fulfill their state And never a thought as to what that state is Only desiring to gain what he claims as his What is the purpose of a life so empty and void? Running around like some kind of droid Being pulled and pushed from pillar to post With pain and suffering that would cause an end to most Why does the human race not wake up from this dream? And openly take part in what would seem To be the only salvation at hand Why can the humans not take a stand? Maybe because the work to do You know that work that is for a chosen few Is not completed to the needed height For this everyone must hold that intention with all of his might And apply the effort of the hero’s will Never forgetting what is not real And then the whole of the human race Will start to ...