In The Field Of Daydreams

What is there to do with my life?
What am I doing with my life?
What am I doing?
What am I doing with myself?
What is the purpose?
Where is the reason?
The rhyme?
The reason?
The strange consequence of being who you are,
the spirit of an anti-conformist,
the ink in a bottle as black as the fathomless depths of a liar's heart.
Where this all comes from, who knows?
The hole in the palm of the hand of creation?
The red abyss?
Who knows?
Who will ever know?