I can hear my own steps echoing in the woods

"work is the essence of life! "

We can't accept that it will stay there

With me rubbing my hands against my temple

And they laughing at something funny beyond

To be oh so sarcastic doesn't work every hour

Every hour of the year

You fall off when the seat has been taken

Like the rest of us, - "be kind be real

or get out of my sight! "

It's hard to carry those facts

Especially when they're either fiction

Or standardized moralities

Like 100 meters of hurdles

Having distance to the subject that matters

Strange common lies in case

I'm not reciting from an already existing tragedy

Catch me lying down, playing dead and buried

Or dig me up when I'm really gone

It's favourable when it lies

But it's not like your wrestling partner

You can't walk out and kick it down

Like 100 meters of of hurdles

You'll have to shuffle small talk to pin it down

I'm sarcastic and reply in that manner

But I can't get to the point

Why should the underdog, even take his brushes out

When they already play duets from the western canon

By krishna and the west wind, there in something funny

Beyond, something funny beyond