Hating the Player, Hating the Game

Just look
At where we're coming from
And where we seem to be heading towards

Those lights
Well, are they flames?
Or are they lights sent to guide the way?

No way of knowing until we get to them
But when we then arrive
Perhaps we will burn
Or perhaps bathe in light

One thing I can assure
Is that now, today, we're blind
Lost, cold and afraid
Growing old and turning gray
Hating the player, growing tired of the whole
Damn game

They say
"When you finally learn to live"
Then, it's already too late
So and yet so far
So far so no good
No trees, no wood
Grief
Joy
Lust
Pain
Tethered to this sombre frame
Afraid and ashamed
Scared of the place
Disturbed by the whole
Damn game

There are a million songs
That we will never hear
Sights that
Sights that we'll never see
Kisses that we'll never share
It's do, or don't, or die
Buy
Eat
Sleep
Pray
Take our place amongst the graves
Like good little slaves
No longer a player
No longer a game