More To Be
This life of work is a running red line.
Why do we drive so fast and eager into the night.
We build our life then sell our soul.
Nobody tells us what we don’t know?
This civilisation, this wonder, this majesty.
We lose our own sight of what we could be.
We dream of cares that we don’t have.
We strive for something but don’t know what or why
This life is strange and through guilt we see; forever wanting more to be.
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