Untitled Eulogy of the Melancholy of the Risen and Fallen

We’re not only running around in circles,

But we’re also falling fast down a spiral.

On a mission, nowhere bound,

No destination, just underground,

My ambition in the lost and found,

Find motivation another time around.

As far as I could tell,

We’re heading straight to hell.

As far as I could see,

There’s only catastrophe.

As far as I could know,

What you reap is what you sow.

 

Of all that’s said and done,

Of the heroes that were unsung,

Of the starved that had none,

Of the abused that had run,

Of the bastard sons of bitches of no one,

We’re the saints of degeneration.

We’re the kings of procrastination.

We’re the prophets of a dead revelation.

We’re the martyrs of a wasted foundation.

We’re the saviors of a lost salvation.

And I don’t believe in having faith in nothing—

There is always faith to find—

There is always something—

But I don’t believe in having faith that is blind.

 

Born to, born to, born to play!

Born to frolic in the sun.

Live to, live to seize the day!

Live to enjoy for the fun.

But you’re faced with life’s conundrum,

And I, I could just ask why?

Why do I just let it by???

 

Push it out, a birth disaster,

Only good for an abortion,

Or end in miscarriage,

With worthless answers

From families of mine…

 

Live it out, a life tragedy,

Only good for immolation,

Or divorce after marriage.

With useless worries

From amities of mine…

 

Drift it out, a death foreboding,

Only good for damnation,

Or purged for sacrilege.

With pointless cursing

From enemies of mine…

 

Count your last blessings in case I should die.

And then I sit back and wonder why?

Why should I, when I could fly?

So I ask these unending questions:

What did I do to deserve?

Is it too late to preserve?

So am I a god in the flesh of the living?

Or am I a ghost in the shell of the machine?

In the end, it’s all the same thing,

Because they’re all misleading.

So am I the forsaken from the sanctuary?

Or am I the forgotten from the society?

Don’t want to be a victim of conformity,

And be a slave to the system’s authority.

Rising against, don’t want to be controlled.

Burning the flag, for a brand new world.

Stand on my own, I won’t be bought and sold.

Everyone sing, the anthem of revolt.

Speak for yourself; don’t want to be told.

Down with the mass, let riot unfold.

I pledge allegiance to a new world…

 

…But am I the only one who is in a state of disbelief?

…This ontological shock is the first step of disillusionment.

…I am suppose to be detached,

…But not apathetic or desensitized,

…I am not supposed to be discriminatory,

But be discerning…