What's The Point Of Trying To Fix

One Mistake, One Brief Lapse Of My New Found Judgement-that's All It Took To Unravel Everything. What A Massive Responsibility, Being A Moral Creature.

I Can Feel It... The Chance To Start Over, To Live Right, To Love Right, To Burn Up In A Fiery Cloud And Never Again Be Buried In The Mud.

What's The Point Of Trying To Fix A World We're So Briefly In?

All My Life I Have Battled The Alarm Clock, Pummeling The Snooze Button Over And Over With Mounting Self-loathing Until The Shame Is Finally Strong Enough To Lever Me Upright.

I Don't Know... There's Something Kind Of Beautiful About It, Don't You Think? That We Keep Living And Growing Even Though Our World Is A Corpse? That We Keep Coming Back No Matter How Many Of Us Die?