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Fiddle and fritter the hours away,
Wherefore is purpose, the key to it all?
Earth encircled by clouds of dark gray,
How long till foundation fails and I fall?

Aching for answers, certainty of youth
Life is alright but I’m never quite well.
Where’s burning purpose, flaming sword of truth?
Time without end, is it heaven or hell?

Drift towards the rocks as the boat glides along,
Rutter flops freely as I sit and spin.
Ignoring what’s wrong helps evil seem strong;
Apathy, sloth, are my terrible sins.

Tristan, Galahad, Gareth and Gawain?
No burning quest’s driving me quite insane.

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