In my mind
It's pouring rain
And my conscience is
This young yet worn out man
Who stands there, idly getting drenched
And as he ponders the irony of this cruel world,
He turns mad and is overcome by a crazy fit of laughter.
This "crazy" man finally came to the biggest question:
What's the meaning of it all?
He realized the answer pretty quick:
Nothing at effing all.
Yet here he is, in his empty vessel
That I call "me"
And all that's left to do in this storm
Is for him to stand there, being pelted by rain,
Letting his head fall back and laughing loud with the thunder.
Apr 3, 2016
Apr 3, 2016 at 5:03 PM UTC
In my mind
It's pouring rain
And my conscience is
This young yet worn out man
Who stands there, idly getting drenched
And as he ponders the irony of this cruel world,
He turns mad and is overcome by a crazy fit of laughter.
This "crazy" man finally came to the biggest question:
What's the meaning of it all?
He realized the answer pretty quick:
Nothing at effing all.
Yet here he is, in his empty vessel
That I call "me"
And all that's left to do in this storm
Is for him to stand there, being pelted by rain,
Letting his head fall back and laughing loud with the thunder.
That's the point I'm at right now.
