There are many things that go through our heads
From day to day
Time to Time
Like love and hate
To worry or wait
Or to finish or procrastinate
But why worry?
Why care?
Could it be too much for us to bear?
We do what we're told
From day to day
the same old thing
It is as we're up for endless fate
But what are we here to do?
Are we just destined to wait
in this giant waiting room?
As if God is the doctor
And we are the patients
Just waiting for no apparant reason
Are we like clocks
Just ticking away?
waiting for our time to be gone?
What is our actual reason?
Our purpose?
Our fate?
Is this what we think of day after day?
Or do we preoccupy our minds
Into silly thoughts that we have a purpose?
So many questions
All confused
Because there are no answers
