So why does it seem,
That you have wasted,
So many in a drunken revery?
Until you've reached that moment when you can say,
"I finally have it all,"
The thought that any should be spent on leisure,
Defies any logic, at all.
And that you don't know when you'll leave this earth,
And so, must make the most of it,
Only argues for living true to yourself,
Which means, knowing your deepest secret,
To what makes you alright,
Which has nothing to do with debauchery,
And everything with where your mind goes,
When it is naturally free.
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