The cup is not half empty
as pessimists say
As far as he sees
nothing's left in the cup
A whole cup full of nothing
for him to indulge
Since the voice of ambition
has long since been shut up
A singer a writer
He's not dreaming now
of going nowhere
Gave heed to nothing
And all that he was
is just a tragedy
So he voyages in circles
succeeds getting nowhere
And submits to the substance
that first got him there
There there there
In violent frustration
He cries out to God
or just no one
Is there a point to
this madness
And all that he was
is just a tragedy
He feels alone
His heart in his hand
he's alone
He feels alone
I feel
Then on that last
day he breaks
And he stood tall
And he yelled
And he yelled
Why
In violent frustration
He cries out to God
or just no one
Is there a point to
this madness
And all that he was
is just a tragedy