A question of life and songs
Many-a-times downtrodden are the winds
Many-a-times I lose even my whims
Many-a-times sparring with time,
I lose my faith, I lose my prime.
Many characters and their own very lives
Many masters and their realms
Many gods with their wraths and love
Many heroes with just a dream.
Yet what comes at the end
Is but an end so dear
Yet what makes them great
Is that loss not they fear
Walking, as these thoughts me hit
I was lost in a merry contemplation
What is there for a man so sombre
Who like all craves adoration
Yet who, in his hidiest times
seeks but only quiet?
Many-a-times as life would call it
I simply sleep
Sleep in a pursuit to die.
But what is there beyond it I wonder
Wonder in the wildest dreams
Dreams of sober sombre wraths
Wraths of time
And wraths of age
Wraths of death sublime.
How about to sing and dance
dance while the life allows
Thereafter only our dreams shall sing
Sing the tunes without sounds
Yet oft come the dreams of hope
Hope that I think it won't elope the hearts
The dreams of mine and yours
The merry fragrance of a little life
That shall keep this dead alive.
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