I can't be fucked
With your catalogue of woes
When you don't stop to listen
When I want to talk to you
And plunge on, with your battering ram of despair
For items beyond your grasp
And frankly, beyond my care.
What is the point of tightrope walking
When you're afraid of falling off?
Or lighting the fuse when you're afraid
The explosion might wake the neighbourhood?
What use is it to bemoan and fidget, that which is beyond your means...
In this, the present, this speck of time
Why not seize the moment, throw a dart at a date
Close your eyes, take a leap of faith?