Poor old Sisyphus, poor old us
An uphill struggle, no one gives a toss
So we get angry, drunk or lost
Look at us, self pity times two
Abstention for both me and you
Nothing more terrible, nothing more true
Forward I'll go on
I'll push on
Through all the trouble
And I can only try
And enjoy the struggle
In this cosmic tragedy
I could pen another threnody
Of my remaining mortality
This drama we become obesessed
With the mechanics of our final breath
Make the time left a living death
Forward I'll go on
I'll push on
Through all the trouble
And I can only try
And enjoy the struggle