Life is but a hoax

A fable without moral that tries to coax

You into searching for a better day

While the choir and congregation all say

With their passionless rhyme

About the death of passing time

Carry on, carry on, carry on.

It begins when we're young,

As they have all sung,

A wisping whim to "grow up"

And time to disrupt

Will soon fill this wish

As age rises like Plath's fish

Carry on, carry on, carry on.

When we mature

The things we endure

Will become like old scars on fresh skin

Both outside and within

We then wish for childhood

With the feeling we could

Carry on, carry on, carry on.

And so death slinks in

Sickly, laden with sin

He whispers in his voice of fading fire

Why didn't you ever show desire?

Where was your passion, where was your fight?

It matters not, for now your complacency will end in uncomfortable night

Carry on, carry on, carry on.