And at the end of the day
We are all left our own devices
To plot the peaks and highs of our lives
And mend the bridges we have broken along the way
To destroy ourselves once more
Each day at dawn
And resurrect what has already begun to Decay
To follow the clock
On and on
And become mechanized thereupon
To wash off the scars
That have soaked in our skin
And look up to the stars
And pray that we do not wear too thin
But every now and again,
Through the cracks of the asphalt
And cement
A blossom will sprout.
And the clouds will begin to part
So that the forgiven misgivings and
Misfortunes of the past shine through
And when the world stops
And we are suspended in time
We are reminded of what is up above us
We are made to marvel
at the wonders of the Sky
Even when the clouds are grey
Somehow I feel tomorrow will be ok