It is so silly, there’s all this fucking distress.

It is so silly, all I can think about is madness,

It is so silly, I am stuck in strange repetitions.

It is so silly, is it not? If so... why am I not laughing?

Why, why, why.

There’s a sense of tiredness that comes with that simple word,

Why?

I find no reason for such mindless interrogations.

Then?

I should find an edge where I can hold on,

Perhaps not for much, but just long enough for me to stand up.

Someone will reach out,

It won’t matter, my hand was already held out.

That’s how people dance, holding each other tight,

That’s why people still dance,

Because of all the madness around.

It is so silly, there is all this dancing.