Hating the Player, Hating the Game - Matt Elliott

Just look

At where we’re coming from

And where we seem to be heading towards

Those lights

Well, are they flames?

Or are they lights sent to guide the way?

No way of knowing until we get to them

But when we then arrive

Perhaps we will burn

Or perhaps bathe in light

One thing I can assure

Is that now, today, we’re blind

Lost, cold and afraid

Growing old and turning gray

Hating the player, growing tired of the whole

Damn game

They say

«When you finally learn to live»

Then, it’s already too late

So never get so far

So far so no good

No trace

No word

Grief

Joy

Lust

Pain

Tethered to this somber frame

Afraid and ashamed

Scared of the place

Disturbed by the whole

Damn game

There are a million songs

That we will never hear

Sights that

Sights that we’ll never see

Kisses that we’ll never share

It’s do, or don’t, or die

Eat

Sleep

Pray

Take our place amongst the graves

Like good little slaves

No longer a player

No longer a game