Gain more fame; Proliferate your name; Stimulate little joy; Forget what you're. The culture all the same; Facilitating professional gain; At the ruins of life; At the cost of furies and cries. Mornings are running in vain; All noons are lazy sights; Look, evening no more excites; Neither happy all these nights. Anomic this is train; Pathless all these aims; Circular path of strive; Work all too work; Consumes the spirit of life. Replicating all the same; Evenings are no more Zen; Without passion what is life? Productions of miseries and strives.
There is something in everything and everything in something.