Something's happening again, but it doesn't matter anymore, something's always happening,
so it just is.
They're living by the day and planning in their sleep, their cubicles like empty stomachs but knowing they'll return,
how many have forgotten the color of a smile,
how many have forgotten time,
fuck it, the old man was right and we're not able to govern ourselves.
I don't remember the moon and I can't see plum any longer,
as I go forward my memory goes wronger.