What sort of life can you ask for?
You know that it can't be ideal
What is the reason for suffering?
What is this anguish you feel?
You try making things right with what means that you have
But you always just seem to fall short
You can't really tell if you're living in hell
Or if torment is God's earthly sport
One of these days you will wake up
You'll see all the time that's been lost
You'll stop moping around like a zombie
You'll suddenly realize the cost
You can't spend your days... wasting away
You must do what needs to be done
Plan out your life, it's you're only respite
And know you're just part of the one
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