Hell is here
        And here
        And everywhere you don't want it to be
You cut to the part of the play where we see Rome burning
        YOU: Sisyphus! Here is your rock!
        ME: Thanks, I thought I lost it!

I hit pause.
Up I go and down I come a
        Merry-go-round that throws up red water
        Free as a stallion
        Free as a show pony

                 Running running running—

You pull me back into the auditorium
        With a thought unheard in an unclean
        Chalice I can't help but drink from
Water from my head filling the crevices that are
Hidden deep
        Deeper
                Deepest and—
Cue the [crash]! and [burn]!
       (Ha! Get it! You’re burning in hell!)

That’s all this is, isn’t it?
       A carefully scripted (comedy) tragedy by a (God) Devil.
I read the script again.
You’re drowning in the fire of your sins
"Condemned by the Father you once loved
Like an unfulfilled prayer
Gathering dust in hell."
I throw it in the fire.

        Running running running.

i am but a mere stranger in this ghost town
sitting on my throne with a silly little crown
here's to their words that cut to the bone
and the psychedelic skies guiding me home

Ten, nine-eight, seven,
Six-five, four,
Three-two, one.
Hopscotch.
No one questioned.
No one laughed or pouted.
The rain washed away the colours,
And we started again tomorrow.

Seven thirty,
Seven thirty,
Seven thirty,
Seven thirty,
And so on.
We need answers.
We need reasons.
We are stuck in our tomorrows.
Our present fades out fast.

We are locked up in our timers;
Slaves to our master mints.
Our souls are dying,
With nowhere to hide
And no one to seek them.
Time does not stand still.

The chalk was our past time,
The clock is our taker,
And we play ourselves.