Tell me now, or ask yourself:
Are you in this life because you chose to be?
Or is this just where you fell?

Did you come to this town
with a reason you couldn’t ignore
Or was it where someone else’s cause dropped you before?

When you think of tomorrow,
Is it what’s already been set?
Or did you measure your life and decide what’s direct,

What’s tied to the heart of what you want to be.
If you don’t ask today - not what others expect
But what you in your hours value -

You’ll never touch anything
Beyond plastic security:
Never realize the rough-hewn world

Is lying at your feet.
But only for a moment,
Breath doesn’t last

Fall back on passive thinking, (and)
The timing’s gone past.
And life, that chance to be, is dust you can’t grasp.
.
It’s not an ideal; it’s today, and it’s gone.
What’re you going to do about it?
What *matters*??