From my voice
But not from me
You have a choice
Yet, vexingly

Free will may not be what it seems
Again not from me, strangedly

The voice it chanels simple things...

Embrace the downs
Relish the ups
Easy to drown
But enough is enough

It's upon thee to understand
There's primal prosperity in a giving hand

Simple enough, no its not
Pressures mount, ***** them out
Give, give, give... give what you can

I’ll do the thing…
For so long resistance
But ill do it now, with no hesitating
What’s changed?
Once lush in joy's abundance
The time has come, I’ve succumbed
Remember the blue, the warmth, the sea…
Remember the feel… remember to feel
Remember so many things
But, the time has come wistfully
It's not age, a browbeaten cultural thing, or some other of today's absurdities
Maybe Its entropy
but what’s changed is that it's trash day and it needs to be empty.
So, I'll do the thing

It isn’t decisioned
But, we’re here in the midland
So, we own it, we loath it, we pretend like we chose it

We’re young and we’re drifting toward whatever the mission
Not fearful, not excited, but somehow united by the sense-ness of it
Control or no control with glimmer or gleam
Knowing what lies ahead will be what will be

So unknown but determined, no choice, just its sermon
And as we continue to drink... to fight, love and write
Despite the science of late laying waste to our tastes
What is known, just inferred experience
So to propound is unsound, for what good would it do