Round and round it goes. Where it stops, nobody knows.
A kid in school gets beat, buys a gun cheap, commits Columbine, kills himself fine. Black trenchcoats are restricted, expression is omitted. Kids don’t like restraint, they’ll cause more than complaint.
People are starving in foreign land, find oil in the sand, dig it up and hoard it for themselves, a war brews and blame is pointed at who belongs in hell. Wealth is stolen and people are starving again.
Crime gets away and people sell drugs. Gangs explode with thugs. Some get high in power, and pass new laws that flower. Crime and government, chicken or the egg? What side is over the edge?
A boy believes in peace and love, wants to help others, not sure what he’s dreaming of. Shit happens he can’t control, goes insane and faces time in the hole. Spends time contemplating just keeping shut and at peace.
Man grows up with beatings from dad, gets tough and tries to stop what he had. Son doesn’t listen well, and he just wants him out of his shell. Shoves the son in the room and locks it. Realizing what he does, man loads bullets and spins the barrel- points to his head and cocks it.
A playground. We seesaw, we climb and fall, we spin on the merry-go-round, we swing up and down. Funny, the games we play. We hope overall it’s okay.
It’s like the forest you’re trying to leave, you don’t know directions, so you just retrieve. Coming to the same spot again and again, you’d almost prefer to reach a dead end. There’s security in the failure that nomatter what you try and find, you can come back again every time.
Walk in a straight line, and you’re back where you were. Or keep the same curve, whichever you prefer. Ultimately, it’s not the sin. It’s about the over and over again.
Round and round it goes, where it stops nobody knows.