People grow old
Like the withered roads they drive on
Like the houses who hold them while they dream
Forgetting their future one second at a time

The day after tomorrow
And the day before yesterday
Slipping away into distant worlds

People pretend to be people
Forgetting yesteryears memories
Who will be the last one standing

People wait nervously
For something that is nothing
For nothing that is something
Perpetuating endlessly
(Dreaming of black sheep)
A paradigm of calm insanity

People cry out into the dark
But only the soft ticking of clocks answers
Killing time with each inhale
Killing themselves with each exhale

In the end
The question is the same
On the hospital bed
Or on the battlefield
"What did I do to deserve this?"

Soil and flame pick apart the body
A ghost remains
The black sheep