One of those days where the weight of it all
seems insurmountable
in the face of life, of men
and mice, of gods wronged
by mortal songs, o' those few,
Precious few, fated to cast dice
and any other animal who might.

I know to be content
all I must do is stand here
in the drizzle during the witching
hour, all I must do is
feel the morning dew after it's coalesced,
Its moisture caressingly laid on each fine blade
of grass, all I must do
is breathe the afternoon mist, take in this fresh air,
All I must do is stride
thru nightly fog, taking it in; and above all, be present
while I can, all I must
do is appreciate that I
am

It's a heart on world with my sleeve steadily exposed
A life line on a call line, dial 888 to be controlled
Puppets on a string to compose this household
The happier we'll be the more we're enclosed

       Smaller spaces to lengthen the gap
       Encircling our inner self control
       Consuming what's left of the demons
       Trying to get a refund on our soul
      
Love changes colors like a rhyme
Smooth and easy
Eyes like the darkness of time
Slow and steady

Yet we're still not ready for the fight
Insanity walks through the door
And just when the time is right
Our beliefs slowly melt into the floor