Poor old sisyphus, poor old us
An uphill struggle, no one gives a toss
So we get angry, drunk or lost

Look at us, self pity times two
Abstention for both me and you
Nothing more terrible, nothing more true

Forward I'll go on
I'll push on
Through all the trouble
And I can only try
And enjoy the struggle

In this cosmic tragedy
I could pen another threnody
Of my remaining mortality

This drama we become obesessed
With the mechanics of our final breath
Make the time left a living death

Forward I'll go on
I'll push on
Through all the trouble
And I can only try
And enjoy the struggle