Often I wonder what I’m doing
Aimless thoughts over and over
Routine steps hardly any new
Escape or die decide no later
Trapped in an illusion That things get better
Shake it off and get up Why this seems so hard
I know the reason And so it is sad
Why I don’t follow My own intuition
Doubt is what I fear the most
For what I have paid all through my life
Yet I don’t know the cost of my escape
Nor of any other choice if I have one of course
Junkyard 