I often venture off into the night with depressed moods
and grumpy conclusions of why I am exactly the way I am.
What could possibly justify my sorrows?
I search for a sword of contempt.
Contemporary evening glows
such as the aura of you,
sustaining my thought power.
Why would you want me to keep on living?
I cannot find my place here.
None of this seems right for me.
It is so sad, but it is true.
Goodnight glue, bon soir hammer,
set phasers to on,
let me be.
The more I do not think of my loneliness,
the less it bothers me.
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