We are Sisyphus.

In worlds beyond the midnight stars,
they are reading the last pages of our memoirs,
looking at us with sadness and sympathy,
and listening to the echoes of our last symphony,
in a world where empathy has the greatest potential,
the sanctity of life is no longer essential.

Its a world where humans spontaneously combust,
and all past greatness has turned to dust,
we wake up each day to sadness and tragedy,
and a little fear that today we're going to die,
no point in wishing upon the early morning star,
angels of mercy cannot hear and dwell too far.

Along meandering streets we stay lost,
dead ends are leading to our holocaust,
how long will these troubled times last,
we don't want to learn from our past,
in deep sleep our souls are crying,
madness within humanity is forever raging.

Normalcy will adapt and shrug its shoulders,
as we've become Sisyphus pushing the boulder,
round and round this circle of madness,
developing new normal's with perpetual sadness,
getting over the pain and living the personal dream,
waking up each day and wanting to scream.

Is happiness real in a land so sour,
the air we breathe is filled with paranoia,
agitated dreams in our sleep,
mothers of children continue to weep,
Lonestar state suffered death in its church,
while god looked down from his golden perch.