Guitar's Cry
The "I" in Reality
Tired;
Sometimes I wonder how far I've come
And how far I have yet to go.
Maybe it's futile
To dream when I am already dead.
Someday I'll slip into nothing
And my physical self will melt away
To other forms.
What's left
If Nothing is inevitable
Then this life is everything.
I drift.
Tired;
I find myself
Razored to the bone
Oozing marrow to suck
From the core of my life.
Sometimes I wonder how far I've come
And how far I have yet to go.
Maybe it's futile
To dream when I am already dead.
Someday I'll slip into nothing
And my physical self will melt away
To other forms.
What's left
If Nothing is inevitable
Then this life is everything.
I drift.
Tired;
I find myself
Razored to the bone
Oozing marrow to suck
From the core of my life.
