worry for your survival instinct
worry that the devil come
and if he does now
run away and hide
worry that death is friendly
worry about the sum existence of it all
fret that the end is coming
describe the dead in turn
maybe the sun is rising
maybe the darkness is still
but in the end all I've got is nil
i've got nothing left to lose
I had something worth fighting for
so i swapped it for a gun
I wrapped it round my fingers
and let go of all the sane
reality fought with nostalgia
death fought against life
the understated distance
that underscored the surrounding
left me thinking about such nonsensical whimsies like this
and i noticed a pattern emerging
what i had to lose i lost
what i kept to gain i threw away
worry about the deafness
worry about the time
worry about the sanity that eludes you
worry about the sun
worry about the cancer
worry about the darkness, when the sun refuses to shine
worry about the facts that create you
worry that they are true
worry about the ignorance that surrounds you
worry that it will take you
worry that in the end all you have to lose,
is worrying about the truth
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