done with Life

I'm done with Life
I've been since I was sixteen
It seems, though, that it is Life
who is not done with me

Each month and the next I ask it
what do you want with me.
I live led on by
urges and distractions,
aims I know are not my own.

Her answer is often silent,
only my something replies with
quiet despair.

No food, no woman, no money or house,
is where my passions live.
Where then, is this true spark
I've lost

No place, no knowledge, no feat or fame
transcends this person's life.
Life has been lately saying "patience",
and my person tears up and cries.

No more, please, get me out of here.
I'm done, kill me, let another do
whatever you want done.
Cause following physical habits
stumbling on shadows,
I don't want that as my own.

Get me out.
Get me out.
Get me out.
of.
Life.