History moves in vicious circles,
Like vultures circling the dead,
Your path appears forward,
But the past is a thread.

Try as you might, try with all sight,
The path circles, dipping in swing,
Keep yourself close, the pieces tight,
The vultures come, their darkness to bring.

Run, for you are prey,
The light may call, but you’re the serenade,
Forge your paper path,
As one always does, in the shade.

But history moves in vicious circles,
And the vultures circle you,
Caught in the dance of fate,
In a relentless loop, forever true.