Will we make it?
Can we fake it until we find the strength to overcome?
Can we find some sort of way to cope without going numb,
Without succumbing to apathy or reactionism?
We’re terrified we have nothing to say and no one will pay attention
But if we don’t pay attention to what’s being said then it will never be spoken anyway
So here’s to hoping hope isn’t just an exercise in futility
Hoping tranquility, bliss and ignorance are all treated differently
Here’s to adaptability
Here’s to embracing chaos as patterns that define the things we’ll never know
Here’s to finding some way of navigating the hights from way down here below
Wait, stop, hold up, that’s not right, I think I said it wrong, do it over,
Damn, I’m so frightened
Damn, I thought I was enlightened there for a second but I’m second guessing everything:
The words I speak, the songs I sing,
The cup from which I drink is almost empty
What’s the remedy?