Six Cents

I drop from the plateau stop, look and go on. It's a thousand year itch but goes without a hitch no one will notice me escaping from captivity and then I'll be free hopefully. Through every life that I live to sift and to sieve out the wheat from the chaff, sometimes to sit and to laugh at its absurdity but soon I'll be free hoping against hope hopefully. Illusion is the light that's diffused when you come to end and you're all used up, darkness awaits me and knowing this I still drop from the plateau and go.