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Tombstones
There is a man who walked
the path
A man who dreamed of going far
But all that he did was go on every day
The same thing work, no rest, no play
One day he looked back on his time
And the wool was pulled from his mind
He does not want the thoughts he keeps,
But remembrance he has, and thus he weeps
The Reaper comes and ends his life,
His soul is freed from the strife
His tombstone fades, his coffins Rotten
Another man is now forgotten
When you leave this world
What offspring will you yield
What kind of life will you lead?
One shriveled, of full of deeds?
What will you leave when you die?
Will you leave a memory, or great life?
Or will you leave just weeds?
What will your Tombstone read?
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