The dreams, them long forgotten kept beneath everything that keeps happening all around.
The walls are being pushed, there is not enough on the ground.
If all that matters in the world is sustaining, fulfilling ambitions will never be good
Everyone seems to be chasing something, money, power and kind
It won't matter much if the efforts are ill-timed.
The moving art, it is not respite but a major struggle,
There is no one who cares about it at all.