Transfixed on a goal that may never come true,
Delivering unto false promises that leave you black and blue,
But I’ve wasted enough damned time believing it can’t ever be so,
So i’ll toss and turn in throes till my heart decides it’s time to go.

Believing is seeing, not the other way round,
Needles forced into hands so that pain will pound,
To get a glimpse of the reality that it’s all a fucking myth,
I won’t become another stoned out loser awaiting his next spliff.

So tense up the game and jump on the next plane,
Fly through torrents of doubt and overcome the insane,
Because if you have the direction to glide straight to your goal,
Then it is obvious you’ve taken the right direction and listened to your soul.

This is what it’s about this whole big messed up game,
The drive and tenacity to let go yet grasp so tightly all the same,

This isn’t convoluted, circumvented, subverted or diverted,
It’s direct, intent, methodical steps you lend to a plan exerted.

Direction. That’s all it takes.
Find one and stick to it. For your own sake.

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