They always thought, the next would suffice, That all their problems would be left behind. Now they see, there is no price, Not cheese, nor something they could find. Who taught them life, for they were just some mice.
We people are like fungal, Destroying our very host, Turning our forests into concrete jungle, It’s our own selves that we roast.
Looking for the car, the mansion, Happiness that would make him a dancer, He realized that it wasn’t in expansion, But love that was the answer.
From a full stadium to only one found, A wonder story, Travelling to be crowned, Never made it to their glory.