A beautiful world turns round again
A simple man must meet his end
A bright new baby is born anew
A cycle can do nothing except renew

But no sick cycle is meant for us few
No endless circuit to remove us from the slew
Of public discord raining down from the heavens
We only stay on track to see where it ends

A broken sidewalk is our path to somewhere
To carry us away to a brand new nowhere
But no preformed path can lead us away
Unless we walk forward to find our own feet at play

A brand new day comes to find its own end
What irony arises from the end of a beginning?
When does a fresh start turn stale and still?
Do our new opportunities hover until they fall?
Or do we have to pluck them out of the air
So thick we can’t see, what the future means us to be

Are we failures or successes?
Do the powers that be know that we
Are the next wave of an endless storm
That batters the public consciousness
Leaving it forlorn and ragged
By the dissent of the vocal minority

We will forever be we, and that is a fact
The sullen masses can’t remove our power
An urge to survive will rain down like a shower
On the poor souls without the life of their dreams

The possibilities remain locked inside heads of lead
While those without any move on ahead
A world for the doer but not for the thinker
Can doom the ideas of the intelligent and weaker
People without the urge to move and shout
Living a life of inadequacy is their only way out

A great ending for these is not in the cards
Instead the powerful push down the bards
The dreamers who knew not the hunger
To leap to the top and remove any wonder
As to whom they could be
Must lie at the bottom explaining the lives
Of those successful but simpler spirits
Who lacked the essence but held on to ambition
A world that is just never comes to fruition.