The world is too much with us. Sooner or later 
We have to let it go, and when we do 
Who knows where it will go? We'll need a greater 
Place to inhabit — perhaps a dead volcano 
On Antares or a spinning top 
In a sandstorm that cannot stand to stop 
Blowing dusty souls to Hell and back. 
Somehow we need to get our lives on track 

Again. Or do we? Let the damn thing go. 
We've been alive as long as necessary 
To get a few things done, be young and grow 
Old enough to drop what we've had to carry 
Over the River of Time against its flow 
Into the wilderness of the endless prairie.