is full of sorrow
a cold for the meaning of your life
is pointless and strife
you're told to be who you are yet
it seems you are nothing but beset
by endless despair and mourn
from the second you're born
from the goldest of spoons or the rustiest of all, later or now
it's this ****** fate that is enthralled
you begin to plow
never escaping your life of naught