Inertia

Most days I do not know why I'm still here You might think it's easy to answer that Most days the answer boils down to fear Or some other simple aspect of what The better philosophers call inertia Here's to being in motion, and hell yes I'm an object Even a little bit of progress, towards any project Really anything at all, to help avoid the fall Most days I would not do anything now You'd be right to question why my time Donated to entropy and decay, and how I simply stopped moving and drew a line Straight across my life, and what a price To my shame and despair, gasping for air And how much the fight against oncoming night Needs every moment to defeat he opponent Tell me to stand, to join in the band Let the music play, dance or even just sway Overtures to my past selves, to the green Verdant life I used to live, to how I used to play Every single night exuberantly made the scene Re-living every moment, every hour, every day Still layering, and flailing, above below between Ask how much the fight against oncoming night Needs every moment to defeat the opponent Doubting the very premise of staying in Where clearly there can never be no doubt Has led me far into dark and deep and dim And what I never said, now I need to shout To hardly hear even the echo so hollow (hallow) (hallow) Or briefly taste, all the black bile I swalloooooow Too tame, too slow, How fast it goes Exhausted exhumed decayed Reviewing every moment I loved the opponent Still loving and hating, above below between Only, how much of the fight against oncoming night Wastes every moment to defeat the opponent Exactly as fast as each fight is foreseen O really, how much of the fight against oncoming night Wastes every moment to defeat the opponent Exactly as sloooooow as each sight is undreamed