The Search
'Nothing to do', a defeated lie
No more than a sad, desperate cry
Searching for a proper use of this time
The same day to day life won't do
Gaining no satisfaction
From common attractions
Feels like bullshit is all that they spew
Lack of reasons to wake from each sleep
To welcome the warmth of the day
Feeling bored as hell
It gets harder to tell
If change will ever come this way
Control remains a distant goal
The mind shackles the voice
Joy surely will come
At the end of the run
From fear of making that choice