Thy glorious life I now possess,
is just nothing but a sort of mess—
and all those things I dreamed before,
are now nightmares sliding ashore.
It is human's nature, to adapt and change
but we weren't informed it would be out of our range—
for childhood is a fancy thing we've all enjoyed,
while adult things are far down this deceptive void.
How come we make children believe in fairytales
and not let them know about these nightmares and blues?
Life is not just about joyous songs of nightingales—
please give them facts and useful clues!
We are all nothing but earthlings trying to thrive,
and we are all nothing but people trying to survive—
We are all just lost adults on a lonely sea,
trying to make things work and make ourselves free;
on these unannounced and uninvited guests of adulthood, which decides if we'll be great or just up to no good—
but nonetheless, it's still marvelous to be here;
we never know the next and what's beyond there.
Feb 22, 2025
Feb 22, 2025 at 10:02 AM UTC
Thy glorious life I now possess,
is just nothing but a sort of mess—
and all those things I dreamed before,
are now nightmares sliding ashore.
It is human's nature, to adapt and change
but we weren't informed it would be out of our range—
for childhood is a fancy thing we've all enjoyed,
while adult things are far down this deceptive void.
How come we make children believe in fairytales
and not let them know about these nightmares and blues?
Life is not just about joyous songs of nightingales—
please give them facts and useful clues!
We are all nothing but earthlings trying to thrive,
and we are all nothing but people trying to survive—
We are all just lost adults on a lonely sea,
trying to make things work and make ourselves free;
on these unannounced and uninvited guests of adulthood, which decides if we'll be great or just up to no good—
but nonetheless, it's still marvelous to be here;
we never know the next and what's beyond there.
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