Around, and around, and around we go
And where we stop, is where we go
The station break that broke our hearts
Returns to haunt and fall in parts.
Memory fragments reflecting clear
These images we held so dear
Life’s small illusions, gone to seed
Will sprout again like any weed.
While other ones may grow quite tall
The bigger they come, the harder they fall
Our griefs corrode in tree-fall must
Before collapsing into dust.
But here! The wheel comes again
It glares, with its enticing spin
A brass ring shines, a pennant flies,
“It’ll be different this time,” it cries.
Here again, the siren song
So wearily, you hop back on
Shaking dust from threadbare gown
Rejoin the only game in town.