Not Me Not You

It's time you knew the blank walls that stare

are painted with a painful hue.

There's doors and stairs and chairs,

But which ones do I use?

Is there nothing to say, nothing to do?

'cause it's not me and it's not you

but it is true.

Is there nothing to do?

Signs of life,

poke through the mists of desires,

pleasure ruins the stamp of survival is screwed

What is old is thrown out to give life to what's new.

Is there nothing to say, nothing to do?

'cause it's not me and it's not you

but it is true.

Is there nothing to do?

Is it an age

where truth is a cancer round the corner

of the words we spoke too soon?

Or a poor man's madness on a journey to the moon?