• We rise to the occasion or sink into despair,
    you either got creative juices or you lack creative flair
    and I begin to wonder why
    life's to do or to die
    when the world will keep turnin'
    and the sun will keep burnin'
    it doesn't matter what you're earnin'
    because the whole human race is yearnin'
    for a change in the system,
    and looking to the stars
    for a milky way out of this place.
    We only want to escape fate
    but fate's a lot faster than us,
    and so we build jet planes
    upon which we plot the coordinates of our future
    and fly into the sky,
    trying to run from ourselves, but
    only running into another self.
    And we built boats so we could float
    out upon the sea D E F G.
    And we constructed language so we could pin down ideas
    and wrap them in chains of correct talkin yo,
    but sometimes you just gotta
    stick it to the man oh man do I wish
    I could shatter the glass house I’m sittin' in.
    I tried one night to deposit my soul
    in the bank of a river of dreams,
    but things are not always how they seem.
    I tried to paddle upstream
    and I promised myself that I would make it
    even if Niagara falls on me and brings me to my knees,
    yet I would kneel in reverence
    to the great power that this world has,
    and I wouldn’t try to control it
    because once upon a time there was a man
    who tried to enslave those
    who were more powerful than him,
    and he didn't get too far
    and when mother nature
    is workin' the cotton gin
    that you get drunk with every night,
    you're predestined for a fight,
    and there we go with the fate thing right?
    What's left to choose
    when no matter what, you lose?
    For it is harder for a rich man to get into heaven
    than for a camel to fit in the eye of a needle.
    Here I am standing in the eye
    of the squall of humanity,
    wondering which way to go, and what to choose
    and if I have a choice and I rejoice!
    Because I’m thinking all this stuff
    and I'm trying to pull a bluff,
    and act like i know what I'm saying.
    Instead, let's just say I’m praying
    to the lord and tailor,
    asking them to fabricate my soul
    and garb me in robes of gray,
    asking to live and die another day.
    That I might think these things
    is a symbol of my power.
    Cogito ergo sum, I think therefore I am.
    Watch my essence as it falls from my eye
    in the form of a tear,
    and tear open the sky
    and flood the world with light,
    or dark, or neither.
    Either way it's just another life in the day
    of the world's eternal pirouette,
    dancing with the stars
    and shedding slowly,
    the evidence that we were ever here,
    but leaving our smoldering ashes
    strewn across the galaxy.