One way up, one way down,
Nothing in the small lonely town.
Moonlight bleeds through grey skies,
Masking pain with cold lies.
The stars speak in blinding riddles,
The truth stays hidden in a web of middles.
Middle men, middle children, middle age,
We’re all trapped in the same cage.
The vast, dead fields and darkness speak very loud,
Negative thoughts and deceit, the mind they cloud.
As the sun rises, things become slightly more clear,
A small sign of relief, but folly still lingers.
It’s near and will never disappear.
