Doesn't matter,
Go to sleep.
There's no rescue from this,
- no easy out.
No pill to pop.
No medical charts saying,
"Well shit, looks like it was just THIS all along!"
"We can fix it easy!"
Just tired.
Just work.
Day.
After day.
Of being too weak
To escape the set trajectory.
I'd rather go on wax wings, thank you very much!
The ending is the same -
I know.
But I'd still rather fly there,
Hand gripped firm around the kill-switch,
Laughing bitterly,
"You'll never get me now."