syllogism

there's nothing more we are allowed to do
the end of purpose could not be more clear
we find the anger ending with the year

we are supposed to say we have a clue
about the cause and reason for the fear
there's nothing more we are allowed to do

our past becomes a sort of human zoo
each memory paces growling in its lair
and all our thoughts are what we could not dare
there's nothing more we are allowed to do