Life is like an hourglass that’s drifting in the sea,
and when you see the sea retaliate, it is because of me —
because I feel like I’m not forced to follow someone else’s dream;
I feel like I should feel, for once, and not take all as it would seem.
And sands that fall inside my glass I cannot change — but I don’t care;
where there’s no current strong enough to force me, I’m a billionaire.
When all the other glasses float along, I feel their sandy stares,
floating fast past the fading glasses that can never be aware.
Blatantly and cautiously I tell my purpose and my story:
that to force a dream on someone else is selfish, garnered glory.