We keep on keeping on until all hope is gone,
We stare at blank walls in amazement without a yawn,
We dress in superfluous gown and accept life as pawn,
Until the cards are drawn and we are passed gone.
The purpose of life is unknown and it hasn’t been shown,
the sinners should have known when Gabriel’s horn was blown,
the writing on cemetery stone makes life seem alone,
if we hear the spirits groan we can make life our own.
If we recollect empathy and acknowledge collective memory,
we find a collective sympathy we can make history a symphony,
because a common entity is the honest destiny,
we can make it’s ecstasy our legacy.
Reach out to your heart and the imperfect art,
take the chance to start taking the structures apart!
… let the returned devils depart.