Reality is pinning me down.
It sunders the hope of reaching solid ground.
My morality is founded within letters
Carved by robbers in the night.
Is this right, or is my sight the line that bounds
A thought from sound?
As I dig myself a hole,
I excavate my hand,
And as the earth had planned
I become it.
Farther down the tunnel,
Assisted by a shovel
I turn the ditch into
A larger pit.
I throw out what I'm handed.
I leave the giver stranded.
I take it all for granted.
Reality has buried me in dirt and grime.
Now it's time to sunder out the truth,
But all my truth is wasted on a hopeless wish.
I'll keep wishing till I'm due,
Till my name is carved by robbers
Above the pit.
I took it all for granted.