Happy busy people,
But are any of us free
Our work buffers us, false ignorance
Mind’s eye blind, we don’t want to see
Does it seem we’re moving on?
Or is that a byproduct of my fading memory?
Who can really say;
What life wants for the best of us,
Is it through God or hands of man
That we make our way throughout the day;
Is there any plan?
Does our love mean a single thing
Beyond the feelings it brings out;
Our pride, lust, sinning vanity
Should this be all life is about?
It robs us of our strength to think
We must carry ourselves alone
And once more we look away,
Running to find what we call home.
Where do we find the answers,
How do we find our drive
To hold on to the idols
That keep our spark alive?
Robbed we are eventually;
At least once we must be wrong,
And if we’re left with nothing else
Why do we continue moving on?