Risky Contemplation
When I look out the window
I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be looking at.
I push my head against the glass
And watch as the condensation slowly blocks my vision.
Do optimists ever lose hope or am I an optimist at all?
I really do have hope that things will get better,
But my head has a constant doubt that I drown out, but for what reason?
Escapism isn't for me, though.
I'd rather stay in the harsh reality where suffering is served
And a bill is still expected,
Than be ignorant and live in a florescent daze.
To most, life is this wonderful phenomenon
When the blunt reality is that there's nothing special about anything.
I have hope that it someday will have something that is,
But I doubt I'll live to see it.
Here's to hope, huh?
I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be looking at.
I push my head against the glass
And watch as the condensation slowly blocks my vision.
Do optimists ever lose hope or am I an optimist at all?
I really do have hope that things will get better,
But my head has a constant doubt that I drown out, but for what reason?
Escapism isn't for me, though.
I'd rather stay in the harsh reality where suffering is served
And a bill is still expected,
Than be ignorant and live in a florescent daze.
To most, life is this wonderful phenomenon
When the blunt reality is that there's nothing special about anything.
I have hope that it someday will have something that is,
But I doubt I'll live to see it.
Here's to hope, huh?