They say the void stares back into you
but I've been given no such reciprocation
countless light years of absolutely nothing
to stimulate my withered fucking senses
The novelty of space wears thin
much like my patience
the black canvas of the void stretches forever
but my lifespan is finite
How does one cope with their own limitations?
So much to explore yet so little within reach
just once I'd like something to be within my grasp
to give meaning to this endeavour
The novelty of space wears thin
much like my patience
the black canvas of the void stretches forever
but my demise draws ever closer
The stars are like embers sizzling away
like the debris of a downed aircraft over the sea
I'm sick of this constant state of tedious paralysis
a thousand different choices might as well be none
might as well be none
And what if the stars collapse
before my distant arrival?
calculations are too imprecise
to make an informed decision
I was not ready to deal with this
to be thrust out into space
I wish things could stay as they were
when things fucking made sense
The vector's been set
and I'm on my way
I don't know what I'll find
but I cannot stay
a thousand choices?
there are only two
compete on the universe's terms
or mine own