Starborn
They tell you it’s right or wrong, this life, like some two-bit morality play. But it ain’t. We’re wrong more than right, that’s the goddamn truth of it. I know I am. Imperfect. Every goddamn way.
They chase the cash, pile it high, thinking more money means simpler problems. Bullshit. The more they get, the dimmer their light, like a dying bulb in a cheap motel room. I’ve felt that pull myself, the corruption, the obsession, gnawing at the edges of my soul.
But joy…real joy ain’t found in a bank statement. It’s down there in the darkness, in the silence of an empty home, when the thoughts come crashing down, and you’re face to face with yourself, alone. That’s where the light flickers, a tiny goddamn spark you gotta light from within. That faith, that thing you choose to walk with… maybe it comes from you, from every goddamn one of you reading this, sharing this miserable ride.
They talk about love, money, pain, fame… noise. It’s all about time. The time we spend, the time we give, the time that slips through our fingers like sand through a broken hourglass. Time gives us everything, and just as quick, snatches it away. Leaves you standing there, empty handed, wondering what the hell it was all about. So you pour another drink. And keep on stumbling.