The sky is big, the earth is small; passion's fire consumes us all,

Crawling low or standing tall; if God be with us who can fall?

He has laid a total plan for those of us who think we can.

Take a look. How large is man, and those of us who also ran.

We smoke and drink and laugh and cuss; the whole damned thing is too much fuss.

We think of them; they think of us, and slowly we're returned to dust.

Can some of us get out alive? Not a one will yet survive,

And we continue to arrive and to the bitter end we strive.

All for what we pay the cost, when in the end it all is lost,

When in our temptest we are tossed and all the warmth is turned to frost?

We linger here, we linger there, and place importance everywhere.

We suck to breathe and find no air, and make all believe we care.

Now that everything is done and our race has all been run.

We say that part of it was fun, but behold the tangled web of some.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written by Robert W. "DJ" Cameron. This piece is not dated but probably written about the same time as "Values." It is another semantic play with words stimulated by the style of Edgar Allen Poe.

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