With the Rest of the Grit

 I was once too busy and too mazed
to even try and find some answers
so I tied rocks to my questions
and threw them in the river.

Now I'm walking the streets every night
treading the dark
with what feels like answers looking
for the right questions.

I almost unearthed some kind of heaven
from this flurry of concrete
then I remembered the river
can only harbour and suppress
and I'm getting dragged towards the sea
and I can't even fucking swim.