Fruitless endeavors grow, the river of life ceases flow
stagnant, stale, polluted without progression
the walls close in, hope is in recession
the world stops turning, comforting winds die down
care free smiles now just an all too familiar frown
Born to lose, broken down, in darkened waters hope drowns
constant tears, constant fears hidden inside
trying everyday, hanging on to the hellride
hanging on, surviving an eight second eternal ride
Sound the bell, call a timeout, feeling such a rage
feeling a bursting urge to shout
a scream of ultimate suferring
longing for something besides pain lingering
no longer caring what new days are bringing
broken records have no change, blemished, unwanted
thrown to the side left to rot, awaiting some care
to sing once again, to share
I am that record, sitting out in the trash
not even worth some garage sale cash.