The rush of happiness and roaring rage
Things of all that may be envisaged
Everything is over, the end of the road
A rigid reluctance, if truth be told
Nothing was ever predicted before
Suddenly how's it an uncertain lore?
Like a free fall or a crashing plane
But things will never be the same again
How will it be, do I want to know?
The truth is no, still looking, I suppose
Only a grey cloud from the window I see
God! What's with all the secrecy?
A better path, they say, is yet to come
A humorless laugh I subject for some
Excuses, excuses! what better to say?
Time still goes on while making hay
Stomping forward, the turn I see
Tilting my head discreetly
With shoulders down yet pace ahead
The space which leads me to me
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