the creator can't contemplate
introducing the late
great
devastation
a cavity
decaying
depravity
just saying
if you could erase it all and retry
now would be a perfect time, big guy

i'm going to dance
i'm going to sing along
i'm going to win more than i lose
i'm talking about beer pong
we're going to laugh
until our cheeks grow new muscles
we're going to defend
each other when the locals want to tussle
they're going to hate us
for generating so much light
they're going to say
we shouldn't have picked this fight
you're going to question
every stumbling thought i verbalize
you're going to wish
for a snooze button on the sunrise

and so the sun set
once again on our story
i will patiently wait 'till morning
to hear your final allegory

every broken, filthy brick
this wall will fit
between who i think i am
and the worms and dirt and grit

he feels the grimy grasp
as god must have given up
nothing seems as fun to him
as it was when he was young
colors have lost their hues
and music has lost its cues
the towers which once were idolized
now don't seem so huge
he would've taken the dive already
had it not been for one question
that plagued the poise of this vagabond
what led to this digression?
but he knew the answer
written in an envelope
and set aflame