A Glorious Comedy - The Madding Crowd

I couldn’t sleep last night

For thoughts buzzed in my head

Thoughts that filled my soul

With an unfathomable dread

What if I’m not the person

That I set out to be?

What if I cannot do the things

That mean the world to me?

And what if the best life has to give

Lives only in my dreams?

My mind is trying to lose itself

Won’t somebody help me?

The night fills me with terror

A terror all too real

One that would shake

The fabric of your soul

Were you to feel

Have I enough to make my life

A glorious comedy?

Or does my substance fall too short

To allow me to be me?

And will that, in turn, make my life

A mundane tragedy?

Will it, in turn, make my life

A mundane tragedy?

Am I a monstrous charlatan

Like everybody else?

Would I not know if I was?

Do I not know, myself?

The vultures circle my head

I think I’m cracking up

The nightmares only come to me

When I have woken up

And people are a nightmare —

Oh, they will be my death!

They make me dead in the pit

Of my soul, just like them

Just like them…

Just like them…

Just like them…

Just like them…

It’s crumbling down

It’s crumbling down

It’s all crumbling down

They’re picking at my bones

And, oh, my blood drips from their mouths

There’s evil in the cities

There’s evil in the streets

Is that evil external

Or does it come from me?