"Untittled"

We go through life
like driftwood
We know not what we do.
Where will we go?

Like driftwood
we are thrown about.
Where will we go?
To the heavens?

We are thrown about
while others shout,
"To the heavens!"
If only we could.

While others shout,
"To Damnation"
If only we could
Be done with these questions.

We go through life
until the end.
We know not what we do.