The end of the nightmare is just ahead
no one sees it until they're dead
waking and sleeping, life's but a dream
rowing a crooked boat down emaciated streams.
One day we'll find the ocean, call it heaven
and see the grass finally green.
Life beckons the question, "why do we row?"
To accrue wealth? to find bliss? we all reap what we sow.
At the top or bottom, life's an ebb and a flow-
and it's deemed the journey not a destination we can know-
Our mortal shell welcomes us to dream what we know.
So who is the paladin who dreams of "larger things?"
Only god in his ocean pulls the multitude strings-
or fate takes the turn we were destined to swing
Forever by fate or god do we claim to know these things.
trapped by predestination our own natures we bring
to imprison us to our first choices I am therefore I think.
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