The Promised Land

They see no colors, only black
The room's anonymous
The little things arranged
Without meaning
Or purpose

Their senses are numbed
Each day much as the last
The same fucking day over and over
Estranged, isolated, cut off
Till they escape to the Promised Land

It's okay to be depressed
Lots of people feel this way
They have to deal with it
Cope with life
But sometimes the shittiness of it all
Gets to me - why do they feel this way?

And so they cry.
They feel better for crying for
spilling words like water
from a paper cup