Sometimes I suspect the unknown poet of the Third Galaxy must have been one sick puppy.
On the other hand, if you had been born on the day the unholy trinity was revealed to the world and grew up with the knowledge that your poor planet was double damned and doomed and going to hell in a hand basket -- I guess you'd have your dark moments now and then...
When all you ever did was prove your fertility,
ít's hard to be confronted with your own futility.
When everything in front of you is running down at the heels,
and the man in the mirror looks just as tired as you feel:
You're tempted to say:
"O shit!
I'm sick n' tired of all of this!"
"I'd let it go if I only could,
you know, I really would!"
To simply take a simple breath and let it go with a sigh!
If it was that simple, it would be simple --
but you know it really isn't!
You have to wave good bye,
even after you've closed your eyes...
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