You see the lives of those close to natural death, hearing the stories as they reminisce their past, existing ideally strong in the past, they may even become the past momentarily.
In itself is enough to exist.
In itself is enough to grow old.
(wouldn't you want to tell new stories)
(wouldn't you want to create them)
(have I missed something here?)
They miss the morning of life, while I confront it.
Their dawn is upon and the sun leaves a long shadow.
That shadow cast presents a picture.
Some don't get that chance.
Some don't go far enough to say anything.
Some don't....
Is it survival?
Is it chance?
I don't see destiny.
I don't see fate.
Words like that are dreams for the young,
something to keep up aim, to keep us grounded
I will fly
will I fly?
In itself is enough to exist.
In itself is enough to grow old.
(wouldn't you want to tell new stories)
(wouldn't you want to create them)
(have I missed something here?)
They miss the morning of life, while I confront it.
Their dawn is upon and the sun leaves a long shadow.
That shadow cast presents a picture.
Some don't get that chance.
Some don't go far enough to say anything.
Some don't....
Is it survival?
Is it chance?
I don't see destiny.
I don't see fate.
Words like that are dreams for the young,
something to keep up aim, to keep us grounded
I will fly
will I fly?