The Joke Is On Us

At 6:15AM, I wake up from the same nightmare again.

It's that one where I'm 100 years old and living alone without love.

Everything I had was dressed and draped in velvet black, 

And words in the sky asked, "Where do we go after the sun goes down?"

Staring at myself, I rub my hands against my face.

As if the answer would come if I pushed hard enough.

Is it cliche to ask for a sign?

Am I doing something right?

Is this really the punch line?



Can it be true that now, the joke is on us this time.

A common mistake we often make is that we think there is a finish line.

I really used to think that my story would go, "and then, and then, and then,"

I kept waiting for the beginning to end.

I kept waiting for something to happen.

I don't want to turn the page if I know how it ends.

I already know the opponent wins, so what's the point?

Our time has one foot in the grave, 

So bury me now and forever erase my name from each page.

There's a checklist in my pocket with none of the boxes marked, 

And it's too late for me to start.



Can it be true now, the joke is on us this time.

A common mistake we often make is that we think there is a finish line.



What if this is as good as it gets?

The joke's on us this time. The joke's on us this time.

A common mistake we often make is that we think there is a finish line.



And in the end, we aren't left with answers.

We're left with choices.