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