Sunday

And then you dig deep, and you keep digging

Hoping to somehow find something invaluable buried under all that dirt

And you dig,

You fail miserably and you decide to change anew

So you sink your nails under your eyes

You gag your mouth to suppress the cries

And you dig,

Change becomes an obsession, because that's what'll trick the fate

And the treasure will be delivered to you on a silver plate

And you dig,

"You fool!", laughs the heavens from above,

All your hands will land on, is your own dead body, cold and inanimate

But you still dig.