Where rolls the Dice as the Band plays,
The World fall as the kids try to rise.
Adults face the decaying truth, while the Young lose pretensions
Nothing rules, and nothing is stable, in the earthquake of Time.
Where does the Music stop, and where will be the Players?
Can Anyone tell Us what We will see along the way?
We can only hope viciousness never overtakes Us.
The Whip of Death spurs Us to frantic Speed.
We ever search for some hidden immortality;
Though We find only musty repetition.
The Dispensor of Life must be making only some sick Joke.
Where went the Dreams turned fantasy,
As the Grave marks our destiny?
No mar upon the face of Nature will be
Such ridiculous creatures We.