Rock of Sisyphus (The End of Purpose)
Oh Sisyphus, let me lend you a hand,
for I have no plans, or a rock of my own.
How I envy your role, of impending parole,
such meaning is far more than I've come to grasp.
Oh but I am free to come and go as I please,
with no lifelong lessons to plague or burden me.
While my boulder grows and grows, its presence is unknown,
and I ascend that hill to find, an ignorance that I wasn't looking for.
So take me down to potter's field.
Lay me atop the vagabonds.
The worthless of the ill-accomplished,
has no relation to where my soul resides