No meaning

I don't think I know any quick answers,
To escape the way life grows harder: I have nothing to say;
I endure work, stress, arguments, and money problems,
And my face grows longer every day.

I have always searched,
Looking for that pick-me-up, to keep my head held high;
Something---anything---to make me happy,
But, sometimes it seems so much easier to let all those dreams die.

It takes monumental energy to keep that phony smile peeled across my face,
When I'd rather punch someone's face than take his hand;
What a bunch of actors! Playing at life,
Acting as if they have some Higher Plan.

Forget it. What do they know?
As I'm at it, I don't know much either;
I see no real design in the scheme of things,
No true spark in any human or creature.