FunnY hOw IT goes

Fading out, slowly, the rhyme of reason
no wonder the air changes every season
buzzing around in circles not a clue
the hour of darkness comes long overdue

Independence from something all pervasive
is mythical, not impossible to come by
As decadance runs in the veins of hope
perpetually staring at the rainless sky

true knowledge is more likely rejected
one wouldn't know what to do with it
maybe pretend that its going to be alright
by virtue of hoardes of boardroom dwellers