Oh winding road, how you twist and turn
me nauseous and absurd.
Make me question, make me think
Make me believe something I don't want to be true.

I know the game, and how it is
usually played:
you test my soul,
I test yours,
then see who will win out,
who first will fold.

Will not race
down this windy road,
will not make haste
lest life itself be debased,
for even in this nausea and absurdity
The turns are awfully exhilarating.