What more is there to say,
On this lovely summer day?
Is this a word game that we play?
Why are we trying to delay?

Are we going to have a fight?
Do you really think we might?
Or will we just begin to write,
Our feelings, now so contrite?

You think we have any regret
That we should not just forget?
Or should we take the running bet
And just repay the awful debt?

Is that all there is to you?
Will you still wear that same old shoe?
Or is it that you still hope to
Find out what you want to do?

Can we make that kind choice?
Will they ever hear our voice?
How will we know when to rejoice?
Can we dance with grace and poise?

How often have we really thought?
That all we plan may come to naught?
Has any of our experience taught,
That our path, with pain, was fraught?

When may we start to celebrate,
Our positions that we delegate?
And with wily skills deliberate?
If the precious egg, we'll not incubate?

Are we only having fun?
Why isn't everyone?
Is the party really done?
Is it smart for us to run?

Will we ever make up our mind,
To do that which we know is kind?
Can we, our fears, truly bind?
Are we really completely blind?

Some think that we should just quit
And maybe just get over it
But most of us will not admit
We're falling into an endless pit