So, Maybe I'm confused.
The world is on fire, of pain and desire
Of swirling light and endless void.
The world's absurd,
With greedy hands and sweaty palms and graceful innocent
arms.
With pressure, and relaxation, and role playing 'till it
aches, or the embracing of one's own Jihad.
With units in math and with units of life,
How many souls left to count?
And the cheerfulness and bliss when they're all thrown to
the wind, we shall last for as long as we last.
With madness and love, with friendship and rejection, with
acceptance and deflection, with retreat and confrontation,
with a few words of blasphemy and a few eternities of agony,
traded for one happy wor(l)d.
Our very own game of life and death, hapiness and sadness,
soberness and beer.
So, Maybe I'm amused.



Dedicated to Oren.