This life is like a carousel,
A whirl of mirrors, music, memories
In the melee.
Watchers do their watching from the ground.
But I can't make out the faces,
As I'm whirled around.
Riding the carousel.

Our life is like a hurricane.
You think bitterness, I, regret,
And we say nothing.
The storm rages, while the eye is silent.
I sift through the rubble,
But I can't divine what you meant.
Surviving the hurricane.

My life is like a music box.
Over and again,
It's just the same old song.
My hope is simply that it's done,
Once the lid is closed,
And the race has been run.
Living the music box.