Again, again, again,
Round we go, never reach the end,
Are we at it again, dear friend?
Unsolvable mystery, that’s me,
Always mystic, caught in cloud revery,
Desperately encumbered, maestro of slavery.
Digging at a dead end
With a shovel made of tin,
I think I might be here so I don’t sin.
This bevy’s too heavy already
Tug at me, shrug at me,
Laugh at me, mock, see?
Your changing’s just unhinging
Me, and you say I can’t keep binging
Like this, like it’s just me who’s flagging.
Oh keep your holy water and your odes,
Keep your summer air and your perfect roads,
I just want to live somewhere quiet, peaceful abode.
Please don’t spin me round again,
Last time, oh, I think I saw the end
I was just starting to believe I was on the mend…