Waiting in life's line. Watching silently as rows apon rows stand up and move on. The sweeping hand of nights liberty. The grandfather master thief called time. Its a sad tail to think life moves as a snail. For today is no different from tomorrow. A penny earned is a penny misplaced. All boiling down to lessons earned and love you crossed. Across the barren plains, across fat sofas rich with grease and oil spilled. Across the TV's screen your life you dreamed.
Suddenly the Que you have been watching like a silent tomb moves ahead, will it be my turn? when will I be dead? That is the last question grasped in your mortal head.
Soon slumbering in a silent tomb your bones sit. Dust miles high. Nothing moved, no signs of life, not even a fly.
Miles of bones, your parents before you all lie in rust. Now the throngs you join in the moment of your gloom. Born a blurred vision, stress, old age, all conviently canned & condensed. All lying quietly in a dusty room with no flowers. No bloom.
Watch your Que, make the most of your fate, for if you have today, its never to late. Tell them how much you love. Reach out to the lonely lost and opressed. All this will make it worth the wait. All this in killing the ugly hands we call fate.
Suddenly the Que you have been watching like a silent tomb moves ahead, will it be my turn? when will I be dead? That is the last question grasped in your mortal head.
Soon slumbering in a silent tomb your bones sit. Dust miles high. Nothing moved, no signs of life, not even a fly.
Miles of bones, your parents before you all lie in rust. Now the throngs you join in the moment of your gloom. Born a blurred vision, stress, old age, all conviently canned & condensed. All lying quietly in a dusty room with no flowers. No bloom.
Watch your Que, make the most of your fate, for if you have today, its never to late. Tell them how much you love. Reach out to the lonely lost and opressed. All this will make it worth the wait. All this in killing the ugly hands we call fate.
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