Poetic Tragedy

The cup is not half empty as pessimists say As far as he sees nothing's left in the cup A whole cup full of nothing for him to indulge Since the voice of ambition has long since been shut up A singer, a writer, he's not dreaming now of going nowhere He gave heed to nothing, and all that he was Is just a tragedy So he voyages in circles Succeeds getting nowhere And submits to the substance That first got him there, there, there, there Violent, frustration, he cries out to God or just no one Is there a point to this madness and all that he was Is just a tragedy He feels alone His heart in his hand He's alone He feels alone I feel Then on that last day he breaks And he stood tall Then he yelled, and he yelled (why world, why world, hate you, hate you, bye world) Violent, frustration, he cries out to God or just no one Is there a point to this madness and all that he was Is just a tragedy