What are we doing?
We don’t get to have control.
A simple flutter, and our life’s work is gone.

The dominoes have begun and stand too close together.
We are last in line on the edge of a cliff.
Immovable in a world that will leave us behind.

Faith, trust, and pixie dust
That’s what helps you fly.
Why do we believe such childish lies?

Who do we think we are?
We don’t get to create the rules.
A small spark, and our lives become ashes.

Right corner pocket and its over for everyone.
We watch the ball that’s rolling and headed to the end.
Wishing to be but only a passerby.

Faith, trust, and pixie dust
That’s what helps you fly.
Why in the hell do we even try?