On Life Goes
I lay here broken and battered, for better or worse,
Still alive, not thumbing for a ride in a hearse;
That counts for a lot, I s'pose,
So on and on and on life goes.
Our lot in life is of our own choosing,
As we live and learn in this existence confusing;
The patterns that define and rule our lives
(The majestic leaps, the tragic dives)...
These patterns...
Do the patterns define us, or do we define the patterns?
Women from Venus, men from Mars... me? I'm Saturn's.
Sure there's good old biology that we must heed,
And thirst needs quenching sure as hunger needs a feed.
These patterns are necessary and part of the Really Real,
I don't waste energy on fighting it, I just try to deal;
On and on and on, life goes on,
Until the baggage I carry weighs a ton.
As near as I can tell, my life goes to sh!t
Whenever I feel that urge to quit;
When the pain and anguish gets to being too much,
And I'm laying on the ground with a broken crutch.
I lay here broken and battered, for better or worse,
Still alive, not thumbing for a ride in a hearse;
That counts for a lot, I s'pose,
So on and on and on life goes.
However I've done it, I've gotten this far,
Alive and lifting my face to the light of a star;
This wondrous indescribable warming gift,
From obsession with my pain it gives a lift.
No time like the present to experience the present,
I lay here broken and battered, but do not resent;
Still I can look about me and drink in the view,
Open my senses and feast on sensation's stew.
Stay in the moment, the observerless observer,
Feel true joy rather than shallow pleasure's fervour;
Die to your self each moment, in order to truly live,
In gratitude I offer all the thanks I can give.
I lay here broken and battered, for better or worse,
Still alive, not thumbing for a ride in a hearse;
That counts for a lot, I s'pose,
So on and on and on life goes.
