Love could rescue Bill Murray
From The Groundhog Day
That hope, too, is not left for me
In love, too, I see no freshness
The same old cry against life
In truth, too, I see no freshness
The same old revelations almost banal
A human mind can take in its stride
And carry on as usual doing something
The same old patterns repeating
The same old archetypes taking birth
Possibilities woven into the genetic code
Yet this mad rushing and spinning
Of planets and people, oh so maddening.
