While they all run about masquerading
I’m just here wishing I wasn’t waiting
Bringing up these existential inquiries
Envisioning incidental individual modes I see
What would I do you ask me?
Why without much thought I’d tell you be free
Yet while standing here serves to remind
Of all the things I’ve left behind
I know who I am, I want this assuredly
Wouldn’t it be nice to quit all this hurrying?
When days seem to merge, isn’t it absurd?