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Utopia, or What's Left of It
This is a bit trippy for me
Just the other day
I was sitting beneath the sea
Watching the gathering waves abroad
Listening to the currents and singing along
Now I arrive to find a hole
A dried up well without any soul
Here I once sat and exaggerated my fate
Bored and relaxed without chances to take
But it's all been avenged by now
The fabled waters are nowhere to be found
What's there left but to move on?
It's a morbid practice to mourn the dead and the gone
I'll miss these days of reflective blue and heedless sky
But I see no real need for all these heavy sighs,
It's all in the standard of one or two dreaded goodbyes.
