Happiness,
A silly thing.
Happiness,
A trivial thing.
Does one only have to sing?
Choir and priestly men may argue yes,
But I can't help but think, maybe this is all in jest.
Does joy really come from the gospel?
Or is it all just a psychological spell?
Must we look to the savior for love?
Or should love be handed to us?
I went on a bus,
Just last Tuesday,
I was puzzled by the lack of happy faces.
Snarls, apathy, stress, boredom.
Is happiness only in God's kingdom?
The search goes onward,
It's everyone's quest.
Must we rid ourselves of our everyday pests?
Pry the day away and yet no one can tell me,
What does it take to find happiness?
I am pleased whilst lucid,
For I am incoherent and I may live from within.
Is happiness right underneath my skin?
Does this indeed imply,
That death is always the best state we will ever be in?
Does this tell me to act as I wish?
Is one really at best immune to others?
If I had my druthers,
I would paint myself pink,
And ride a fuchsia elephant,
Alas, I can't!
Society stops me in my tracks!
Is happiness perfection?
Or simply satisfaction?
Then why oh why would the world lie?
Does true happiness exist?
If it did, it wouldn't be so very sly.