|
A friend of
mine says the world’s on fire, and it’s never going to rain.
And it’s worthwhile to be a liar or
anything else that pays.
I told him I’d been there before,
and it’s no place to remain.
While one of us remains alive,
Then surely we shall all survive.
After this, all else becomes a
sigh.
I’ve been told too many times that
there’s nothing to believe.
But you and I can make the garden
real before we leave.
It’s left to us to sow the joy, we’ve
had enough of grief.
|
