When did life assume the shape of a TV screen
A work-horse work week, and commute in between?
As we masquerade the days we waste
Love's stuck on dusty shelves with feelings we forsake

Before you know it, they'll be selling us
Blood to bleed and air to breathe
Along with pre-packaged hopes and dreams
That always stay an arm's length out of reach
I can't help thinking there's more than thoughtless repetition

On the porch all night telling stories
Outlasting moons when the rain is pouring down
Will we fight to take the reigns of our lives
And find our own truths?
Will we die to darker days and break ties
With the hells we've walked through?
It's not too late