The Joke Is On Us

at 6:15am, I wake up from the same nightmare again

it's that one where i'm 100 years old and living alone

without love

everything I had was dressed and draped in velvet

back, and words in the sky asked, "where do we go

after the sun goes down?"

staring at myself, I rub my hands again my face

as if the answer would come if I pusehd hard enough

is it cliché to ask for a sign?

am i doing something right?

is this really the punch line?

can it be true that now, the joke is on us this time

a common mistake we often make is that we think there

is a finish line

I really used to think that my story would go, "and

then, and then, and then"

I kept waiting for the beggining to end

I kept waiting for something to happen

I don't want to turn the page if I know how it ends

I already know the opponent wins, so what's the

point?

our time has one foot in the grave, so bury me now and

forever erase my name from each page

there's a checklist in my pocket with none of the

boxes marked, and it's too late for me to start

can it be true that now, the joke is on us this time

a common mistake we often make is that we think there

is a finish line

what if this is a good as it gets?

and in the end, we aren't left with answers.

We're left with choices