Can failure fail me again,
Or force my hand at something that’s never been?
Can a scent change my life
Can a cent change my reflection, can it give me back my night?
Can you express your thoughts in a non-chalant way?
Without the flash and valor of getting away?
The daylight sprinkles our toes with burns
What comes will be gone and what’s gone will return.
What does what we want, we soon will not need
What falls to the back will soon take the lead
Can I express meaning in a meaningless world?
Can I say something that’s never been said before?
Can our days fill our lives with passion?
Or will our inevitable downturn spring forward in fashion?
Will affections and affectations
Cease existence altogether or will they mold themselves into one?
A new life. A new face. A new name. A new start
An adjacent way of saying, “Everything’s going to fall apart.”
You will fall. I will fall. Nothing will remain.
Why can’t our preparations for modernism keep us this sane?
Why do we care? What keeps this wheel in spin?
Canned failure. Can failure fail me again?
[Back to the Station]