Intense enjoyment
Blocks out reality
After years of such
Here we are now.

When I was a boy
I wanted to be a cowboy
Holding fate in my hands
Alongside a revolver
Filled with instruments of destruction
But now, I am no longer a boy
For the only way to be a cowboy
Is to be a boy
And never grow up.

To **** the past
Is to never learn from it
How can we **** the past
When our future is already dying?

Growing old
Growing up
To notice the difference, say "shut up"
Then witness the path
They have embraced

Remaining static
Leads to stagnation
Remaining overactive
Leads to burnout
With all things in life
Balance avoids decay
Turning stagnation
Into administration

My friends
Think of death as not an omen
Perceive it as what it truly is:
Natural
Change can bring terror
Sometimes, laughter
But death is change with no transparent effect
It is like all change
Why do we fear it?
Because we can not control it.
But, is that so bad?

The dreary weather
Pounding against the windows
Entirely impractical-
The windows I have: entirely imaginary
My train is due to come
A stowaway, I am.
The only soother for my wayward will