Poetic Tragedy

The cup is not half empty as pessimists say As far as he sees nothing's left in the cup A whole cup full of nothing for him to indulge Since the voice of ambition has long since been shut up A singer, a writer He's not dreaming of now of going nowhere He gave heed to nothing And all that he was is just a tragedy So he voyages in circles Succeeds getting nowhere And submits to the substance First got him there, there, there, there Then in violent frustration He cries out to God or just no one Is there a point to this madness And all that he was is just a tragedy He feels alone His heart in his hand He's alone He feels alone I feel Then on that last day he breaks And he stood tall Then he yelled, then he yelled Then in violent frustration He cries out to God or just no one Is there a point to this madness And all that he was is just a tragedy