Ejected at celestial heights
From the divine spaceship of birth
a clueless babe without a parachute
Slowly falling or maybe quickly
The speed depends on the worry:
Am I winning or losing?
Am I doing it right?
Through the material space
so goes the time space
Year by year, day by day, minute by minute
Carelessly, like I’ve got nothing to lose.
The ground looks so distant
but certain to meet us when the time comes.
So, what to do in the meantime?