Shot like a dart and it's broken your mind.
Will the evening find you okay?
Taken it hard and you open the blinds;
To a clear, blue day.
>This is a fallacy. This is pathetic.
>Who let the poets decide what's poetic?
>The sky won't cry because you and I have seen pain.
>(It's a shame.)
Fortune at last and it's kind and it's vast,
Stable-tide satisfaction sweeps by.
Ready for more and you
Step out the door to a dull, grey sky.
>This is a fallacy. This is pathetic.
>Who let the poets decide what's poetic?
>The sun won't come because you and I foresee fun.
>(Never has done.)
>Desolate fallacy, desperate, pathetic.
>Why do the poets confront our aesthetic?
>Our quandaries won't hold back the seas. It's a ruse.
>(Guess you lose.)
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