In it's infinite complexity,
I find life to be perplexing,
Confusing in it's slowly hastened worry.
I don't know what to make of it ,
And the answers I try to wring from it,
are met with the reply that I am undeserving.
"You don't make the most of time,
Instead you worry with pursuits of mine,
Are you so blind that you cannot see the truth?
It's not the Universe, God or Faith,
that led you to your solemn place,
It's merely the fact that you're a fool.
The ways of life are not meant for man to rule."
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