If the calendar was malleable
And we could pick and choose,
Then mistakes would not be permanent,
Do-overs would be commonplace.
If it’s true that fame is fleeting
And wealth can’t buy happiness,
Then I must be the happiest
Poor bastard in this unknown world.
If the myths of
And looks turned men to stone,
Then man would have evolved by now
To lifeless frozen rock.
If the world should stop revolving
And the sun refuse to glow,
Then I’d seek the warmth of kindness
That dwells inside your eyes.
If the angels came tomorrow
And took me to Heaven’s door,
Then the answers would be obvious
And I would guess no more.
No comments:
Post a Comment