The world is as it should be;

'tis its troubled ' so trying ' inhabitants,

who are less than serene;

held, by inhibitions of hate,

in the captivating state,

of madness,

and mean.



Sadness, it brings, and mean it is, to look upon thee,

and ne'er see past he heavens in your eyes;

ruined with lies, wrought by pain;

found, in finding highs in the basest of things;

in gathering strings, moments, to help to mend your heart's hole, whom hurt in holding brings; all effort in vain,

for less than serene;

all madness,

and mean.

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