Oh a miss-step the dread protect the head

As I bleed a broken mess I must agree it says it's dead

It's a trip a stumble and fall slipped off the wall cracked to bits

As I bleed a crown of rust I do decree it says it's dead

Bound from birth a trip back to mother earth

I was caught rolling rocks into the sea where they belong

Is this the final dream? It would seem the thoughts of the dead

As I peer from off the pier it appears the end is near ow

Ground to dirt with the help of me a growth spurt

The rock with the will of man pulped in the sea

Light sprеads open the dark I embark only wish to know my part

Am I thе wheel or the mouse? Am I the outcome or the thirsty louse?

Found by her the eye at the core of her girth

Is it fair to be punished for moving things along?