I won’t reach out again,
to find more misery,
the hours have dragged with ideals
none of which belong here tonight,
only soft, passive, realities of time.
We did find humor in our caprice,
then lost all imagination when slow
the world began to change,
I should have known the signs,
they’re typical with cliches abound.
What happens when a dream declines,
the atmosphere of weak reason
overtakes our simple design.
when then we wait to know the end,
when then we wait to know the end.