Admittedly

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Hussalonia

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Admittedly, my grip on life is loose
Nothing's guaranteed except this truth
When death arrives, he'll spare no cost
All that you have will be all that you lost
The self is a program, that for a limited time
Runs with some degree of predictability
Violence and fear, illusions all around
With regularity, I ask the elevator to bring me down
Oh, you and I, we aren't so different
Two hopeless mortals, numerically insignificant
For an abundance of riches we have not earned
What service do you have to offer in return?
Admittedly, my grip on life is loose
"This world is not my home. I'm just passing through"
The value of ideas can be measured in love
Live to be a thought worth thinking of

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