When the sun comes up
With your tattered little dreams
And a broken cup
Then you’ll have to
Trust someone
And don’t believe in your lies
You wasted your time
Thinking too much
Really making such a mess
Of all the things you touch
Poor little bird
With that broken wing
Better look around now
You know your losing everything
But it’s just a part of the game
Stoic Poetry
Through The Cracked Window (Revisited) 