We are all born to rot in our little prisons
even if some are more literal than others
as each day passes by we pass another day
reasonably fast or slow as time has its way
engaged in wringing out the bar rag of our souls
as we wake day or night so begins the task time
left off yesterday or earlier today
left us to take up our cross our burden this bag
born in this skin and bone sack the rattle bag creaks
old people know this well everyone who gets old
remains susceptible to suffer life in pain
no one escapes the truth no matter how blind drunk
they choose to get to pass the time to hide away
on their own in denial of the pain they must face
reason proves a useful tool but of no avail
once we see on eggshells we walk around others
to pussyfoot in fear we may upset their mood
inside my own prison I take my family
never leaving without them with whom to argue
on my way home from work at night I remember
unkind moments either mother father brother
reached out to do harm against me in my youth
leave it to our own minds to wait until ready
in the moment you least expect it panic strikes
take tigers by their tails ashes ashes we fall
to the ground all of us drowned by the pain hidden
lifeless as a statue of an old sabertooth
even prehistoric humans faced this riddle
passing each day hidden away inside a cave
resting sleeping waiting for a moment of calm
in their wicked gardens danger lurks with each step
still we enjoy their world so completely transformed
on the outside we walk in civilization
no one is free until we all are free as one
still only one needs must wake for us all to rise
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