In the end, some say we will remain as helpless stones
washed by the river of time
as much as we may fight the current
we have no power over the raging of the water
no way to keep things the same

yet, consider the strange
painful moment
running like a blister
when a life is exchanged
for the lie of a serpent
love, for the thrill of disaster
can we not trade our lives for something better?

Some sell the idea that we are hopeless ones
drowning in a state of mind
sinking in the sediment
they say we are the problem, doomed to failure
with no way to win the game

yet, consider the the choice
we have how to spend every second
yes, things will change
but we still have a voice
we can decide whether things will change
because of progress or because of decline
we aren’t really helpless pawns of vice

as the river of moments flow
passing by, people living in the past
we see how our choices last
shaping the course of the future
sculpting the features
of the wise
and the foolish
statues that remain to remember
how we spent our lives