Windless evening,
sweaty forehead,
responsibilities I am forgetting,
makes my world seem dead.
Memories flash by
while walking on a lonely road,
of good times and times of cry,
cursing and regretting and giving people an ode.
Future plans going awry,
the present 's directionless.
Like Loki's Chitouri,
fighting a war, victory-less.
Seeing people in a good mood,
makes me miss a few fools.
Suddenly a thought comes about a car's hood,
suddenly asking, am I the fool?
Thinking of my country and my life,
suddenly realizing I was home,
living by the edge of a knife
and spending sleepless nights on the bed of foam.
