The Next Stop Light

Everyone is in a hurry just to get to the next stop light.
How come no one realizes that they are wishing their lives away?
Where has imagination gone?
People with real knowledge are a dying breed.

The world spins on and I still exist in it.
I went to the store today and couldn't remember
what kind of lipstick I wore.
I put air in my tire and
hurried back to work.

I sat inside at my desk.
My head hurts,
My shoulders heavy with
the weight of fresh realization.

A life heavy on possession
and light on passion
is not the life for me.