We are all just kids trying to find a purpose, a rhythm in our so called life.

Blessed are those who cry,
Blessed are those who well up,
Blessed are those who beam,
Can you hear her subtle scream

On this journey that we are on,
creating chaos and uncertainty,
We are all waiting, we are all waiting,
for that one wave crash, to take us down,
Are we not?

I will just resort to knitting to kill time, all the while the annoying tick of my wrist watch serves as a constant reminder of the sheer irony that is life.

So sing me another verse, worse than the other verse so that I know what I’m ungrateful for.