The years act as markers of our lifeline, our history
We wonder the choices, if we solved our mysteries
But it doesn't matter if we have or have not done so
We enter life cold and wet, crying, into the unknown
Our planet spins upon an axis, responds to entropy
Forget all our dreams, fighting to survive, a legacy
We wonder, is our existence something so random
Somehow did we pluck joy from the desperandum
Or did we have a plan, a purpose, a sort of design
As we've few days to live, in the long run of time
"Scars have the strange power to remind us
that our past is real.” Cormac McCarthy
We wonder the choices, if we solved our mysteries
But it doesn't matter if we have or have not done so
We enter life cold and wet, crying, into the unknown
Our planet spins upon an axis, responds to entropy
Forget all our dreams, fighting to survive, a legacy
We wonder, is our existence something so random
Somehow did we pluck joy from the desperandum
Or did we have a plan, a purpose, a sort of design
As we've few days to live, in the long run of time
"Scars have the strange power to remind us
that our past is real.” Cormac McCarthy
