Spoke on a Wheel

How come

When I wake up everyday

I look outside and the whole world's just shades of grey?

I don't know what I can do

I'm stepping on eggshells just so I can work through

These decisions cause strife

Do I want a house and a wife?

And a kid who'll resent me for the rest of his life?

Or should I live life alone?

Become an unknown

Just live by the bottle until I turn to stone

I'm not sure where these paths lead

I don't know how to proceed

I just know if I do nothing I'll never succeed

Is that such a bad thing in a world full of greed?

And where I can't work at Starbucks without a degree

But going to college costs an arm and a leg

And I'll be paying it off 'til I'm dead in my grave

Just to get out and a work a job that I hate

And I get home and pretend that my life is great

But I know deep down inside I'm just wasting away

Does that seem at all fair?

Should I even care?

Or should I sit around doing nothing, just wasting air?

Telling myself one day my ship will come in

'Til I fade into nothing and become another has been

"He has been alive, but now he's all gone"

Is all that they'll say when it's all said and done

"We try to remember him, but we really can't

He was a no one, worthless, a dirt-covered ant"

Aren't these words kinda pointless, just another dumb rant?

Talking is something, but actions outweigh some stupid chant

I can say that I vow to do something self-fulfilling

But how do you know that I'm really willing

This is just talk, just time that I'm killing

When this is done I'll just be sitting around chilling

I'll just eat, sleep, and s**t; nothing too thrilling

Because what's the point? I'm just useless filling

Just another consumer using up the world's supply

Taking Earth's air, food, and water until I go die

Just like everyone else 'til we bleed this place dry

And then what do we do when our resources are gone?

Life will end without meaning yet time will just carry on

So what is our purpose if our existence is moot?

What is the point of this endless pursuit?

When what we do means nothing; our future is non-absolute

So why get out of bed when all there is is the end?

Yet we try to prevent it just so we can pretend

That there's something more than our sad dry routines

We're just a small spoke on a wheel of the universe's machine

We try to live day by day, but our future's foreseen

It all ends in death, not trying to be mean

But seriously, no, really, trust me on the sunscreen