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A collection of ideas I put together in ballad format. |
I stand at the crossroads and I look down each way. One leads to discontent and the other to dismay. At the end of each path there’s silver, but both are lined with lead. And the complicated road signs are getting to my head. Each path is a tunnel and the tunnels lead to fame but the destination seems less sweet when the journey’s plagued by pain. And outside of the tunnels, to make matters worse, I grant the destination’s simpler, but the journey’s less perverse. Inside of the tunnels the people are so proud of their sheer superiority and the wealth with which they’re endowed. They talk about the abstract and how the world should be run, but with just an ounce of logic their worldview comes undone. Outside of the tunnels they don’t think but feel. They don’t fret about the abstract; they enjoy what is real. Outside of the tunnels they know that we are blessed to live in a world of such beauty, so they appreciate its best. I see the yellow of the sun above and the blue of the sky. I feel the wind on my face as I look into the tunnel’s dark eye. It peers back blandly and inside I hear a voice calling me to join them; they think I have no choice. They believe that I belong with them in a world that’s void of charm, but I make my decision and it’s much to their alarm. For I can’t fight the intense desire, as I marvel at the sun, kindled by the fact that prestige won’t compensate for fun, to leave the tunnel where it is: To turn, to hide, to run. |