A wheel ever turning over, but not on any track Going nowhere, but carrying all upon its frail back It stares at me from the wall, knowing that it lasts forever To think it was built by hands like mine, but created solely to measure
But now it's gotten out of hand (Ha ha) and it's immortal, unlike me Even when it rusts and fails to do, it will always continue to be It doesn't even really exist, I think, but somehow outlives us And for something that we just SAY is there, it causes so much fuss
No road I take will be as long as yours, wheel upon the wall And though I'll struggle, & suffer, & fail - You'll have no trouble at all When we all die, will you exist? Because we invented "Eternity" too Or are you so ubiquitous in form that others will recreate you?
Wheel, oh wheel, you tell me nothing that I don't already know I have no need for when at all, but you'll still tell me so
Though you may be eternal, you are running out for me So if I make you mortal, will I never cease to be?
And then I smashed the clock
Joke poem about endlessly philosophising over the nature of existence rendered down into the purest unga bunga caveman brain of humanity.