Worlds collide
Kingdoms rise and fall
Lovers are lost and found
Ages pass and fail
But the world just keeps spinning, the universe just keeps moving.
We stand alone on this spinning speck in a infinite ocean of mass and power.
We stand wait, longing for a purpose, waiting for the currents to pour us in the right direction.
But we are here still, waiting for a change, yet dreading it’s arrival.
When the minute day arrives and we finally accept that we just are, that the reason for us is that we have just been and will not always be, then maybe we can finally move on, to the things that might make being just a little bit easier.
We live not to please God, not to please others or even ourselves, but to maybe not let ourselves disappear and just be now.
We want to be then, we want to be later, we can’t accept that we will only be, and then fade to black and then to less.
We just are, even if we might be later, if we’re lucky, but right now we just are, we just believe, we just wait for the current, we just collide, we just rise and fall, we just loose and find, we just pass and fail.
But the world keeps turning, the snow keeps falling, the rain keeps pouring and we fade into black, waiting for a change, that comes just as we are.

Drip… drip. The endless soundtrack of that leaky faucet,
Drops of water waste away, minutes trickle by.
Melted wishes flow on down, those pipe dreams only that.
Drip… drip. They all collect in that sea of broken promises.
Drip… drip. The Pacific, the Atlantic, they are dwarfed by this, the broken ocean.
Drip… drip. The waves do not crash, the storms do not roar, they do not recycle this endless sea.
Drip… drip. No ship has ever dared sail, for none will come running back.
Drip…drip. Not a ripple above, but a wail from below, those hopes just don’t want to let go.
Drip… drip. Maybe there’s a girl up there… maybe a boy… maybe they’ll go fishing, maybe they’ll brave a sail on that lonely river.
Drip…drip. Maybe they’ll care to mend piece of that broken ocean.
Drip… drip. Maybe. Maybe someday, someone will come. Maybe someone with know-how, and some brains to match it up. They’ve got to have a heart, but maybe… someday.
Drip… drip. But for now, we just listen to the soundtrack, of that leaky faucet.

Everybody has that one song they listen to all day because it is the only thing that understands their feelings.
Music is a window into an otherwise solid shell,
an escape from the walls built long ago and never broken,
a bandage to heal open wounds invisible to all but you,
a way to shout without saying a word,
a way to cry without a tear down your cheek,
a way to stop thinking without sleep,
And a way to be alone without anyone looking for you.

The world was once flat.
People were once Gods.
Myths were once fact.
Earth was once the center of our universe.
People were once owned.
We once believed in innocence.
Continents once did not exist.

Now we **** for convenience,
Hurt for pleasure,
Cry without pain,
Leave behind those who might burden with their grief,
Inflict tragedies without meaning.
We have been wrong before, why is now so different?
Fact has been proven fiction, fiction proven fact.
What makes us think that we can see now, if we were once so blind?
Knowledge is power, but ignorance is just as.
Are we, or are we not? Can we make sense of our world before it is gone?
That is the one question that is neither fact nor fiction,
Which is precisely why it needs an answer never found.