Damned if I do. Damned if i don't.
One year will soon be gone.

Time is fleeting, it waits for none.
Shall I sit and wait?
Or shall dusk be upon me as I tread on further?

Damned if I should say it. Damned if I keep mum.
It's easy to rove about into the familiar.

Danger lurks, no less.
Though famliliar this gravel road may be,
darkness shall loom and shadow all.

Damned if I linger on. Damn if I should proceed.
Who holds the answer but me?

Enter I into a placid nocturne,
prancing away to a lovely cantata.
Then perhaps, afloat I shall no longer be.

When at dawn, the birds shall sing
and I'd be waiting by the river of life.