PRISON OF CIRCUMSTANCE

Locked in a prison of circumstance
In the physical limits of space
We shout and sing, learn to dance
Stuck in this human race

Bound by blood and skin and bones
Surrounded by stones and flowers
Slaves to new media and cell phones
We measure our lives with hours

Time for this or space for that
There is only here and now
This is really where it’s all at
When it should be, somehow