at first we plan,
then we dream,
and then we sit back, waiting to be seen,
and then we push,
and then we shout,
and then we beg our friends to help us out,
and then we take out our frustrations on the only ones who care,
and then we cast our gaze around,
crawl in circles on the ground,
but evidently, no one found us there,
and then we moan,
and then we sulk,
and then we watch our cargo turn to bulk,
and then we blanche,
and then we moult,
and pray it's just a temporary fault,
and then we bristle with injustice,
and we rally for a while,
before we sink back in our chair,
wring our hands in deep despair,
kiss the wife to clear the air,
and smile, for a while,
and then we die.