no secrets left

were we to ask the sunlight for its name
we'd get an anwer but we'd not be glad
not when we think just what each likely lad
would think if he knew the cost of the game
our lives are caught within a single frame
and we won't miss the things we haven't had
but still we've not been driven wholly mad
we are not wild but neither are we tame
outside the smog turns all the green to gold
as false as any prostitute's smooth smile
but we aren't ready to regret nor rue
our minds can't process everything we're told
thought only travels in a single file
and we don't know exactly what is true
the things that stand or move in common view
can fill our hearts with warmth as well as cold
and every process takes a little while
and into one big bag the whole is rolled
from suchlike matters we wont' make a pile
nor find out what is old and what is new
but there's a reason for our stubborn choice
we see the sights and give them honest voice