We knew that neverland bouncers were watching
We saw their calculated glances, suspicious
We leaned toward the fences, on our heels rocking
We saw the guard dogs, their glances vicious
And circling, we came
Not wanting to be the same
Intrigued by the name
Tired of the tired game

We knew that life was aging and wearing out
We saw the pathways outlined against the sky
We leaned into strangeland, spinning about
We saw that pain only readied us to die
And circling, we came
Not wanting to be the same
Intrigued by the name
Tired of the same old game

We read the printed signs, the warnings scary
We looked into eastern eyes, quite a stretch
We looked over our shoulders, not so merry
We stepped over predecessors, trying not to retch
And circling, we came
Not wanting to be the same
Intrigued by the name
Tired of our little game

We scanned manuscripts, gleaning instruction
We gaped at the failure, back into the hole
We climbed over fences, witnessing destruction
We looked into the dark side of our souls
And circling, we came
Not wanting to be the same
Intrigued by the name
Tired of life’s old game

And circling, we ceased
Not believing the ease
Incensed that we were the same
The circle, completed, ended the game

“For all our striving and attempts to find a secret,
For all our work throughout the night
We learn that no secret exists,
Life must be accepted,
And that there is no Light”

— Millal Ba