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Poetic Tragedy

The cup is not half empty as pessimists say

As far as he sees nothing's left in the cup

A whole cup full of nothing for him to indulge

Since the voice of ambition has long since been shut upA singer, a writer

He's not dreaming of now of going nowhere

He gave heed to nothing

And all that he was is just a tragedySo he voyages in circles

Succeeds getting nowhere

And submits to the substance

First got him there, there, there, thereThen in violent frustration

He cries out to God or just no one

Is there a point to this madness

And all that he was is just a tragedyHe feels alone

His heart in his hand

He's alone

He feels alone

I feelThen on that last day he breaks

And he stood tall

Then he yelled, then he yelledThen in violent frustration

He cries out to God or just no one

Is there a point to this madness

And all that he was is just a tragedy

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