Stand, paralyzed
Under midnight’s neon
The wind is cold
Your lungs filled-with fear

The voices of the city silent
But yours angry and desperate
                             Then you say:
I was not meant to live
For I know not how to die

Silly mortal questions
Burdensome and disquieting
Aching uncertainties
Interrupting your sleep

How serious can it be
To die and nevermore be
Have we trembled for naught?
Expecting a snake
               Which was only a rope

Sleep has come, today is born
Lost in duties, whatever follies
Unaware of future’s scheme
Nothing matters but this instant