blah blah black sheep

Somewhere down the line
I shall be able to see
That the world I live in
Is make believe

As the light moments fade out
And as the dark ones begin to enter
I am nothing but a pale imitation
That is beginning to render

Somewhere between the bliss and the pain
There is an orgy of human condition
Laughing and mocking at itself
In an endless loop

I shall continue to change
I can only continue to change
But the sad notice the morning paper shall bring
Is that all remains the same

There is no escape
There is no relief
From the tormentor
That lives with me

Every time I sit back
And bring out my typewriter
It looks at me mockingly
And catches me alone

The jobs that we are given
The jobs that we take
The jobs that we finish, and
The jobs that we fail

Are all doing nothing
But simply building
A quiet sullen downfall
Of the most useless organ that lives in me