Right from the middle of everything, talking in puzzles, walking in haze,
Right to the outskirts of everywhere, turning ideals upside down.
Average performance is nothingness, failure is blatant reality.
Participation in emptiness, evaluation: nil.
So if you had a conscience, you might well be aware,
And if you had awareness, perhaps you might be fair.
Everyday blunders are mere routine, near misses were never so obvious.
Stooges’ and scarecrows’ nobility blurs our idea of decency.
Self-imposed injuries, well deserved. So don’t complain since you called for them.
Phoney bewailing your misery: Sorry, friend, serves you right!
So if you had an answer to end this shameful state
How would you try to change it? But never blame your fate.
Rght from the outskirts of everywhere, turning ideals downside up,
Right to the centre of everything, walking in puzzles, talking in haze.
Average in nothingness, well performed, failing in blatant reality,
Participating in emptiness. Self-evolution? No.
So if I had a conscience, I might well be aware,
And if I had awareness, perhaps I might be fair.
Well I don’t know an answer to end my shameful state.
How could I try to change it? So what will be my fate?