Just as some never end,
Just like there will always be poor,
And war and famine,
And when you wake up in the morning and you are,
Tired beyond belief,
With all this living stuff, try to remember,
The tree doesn't lament the loss of a leaf,
Unless it's not the season.
There really is no comfort,
When your body aches before its time,
Or your life is cut short.
But it's alright,
There's always the after-life,
Whether you're conscious at that time or not,
It's a comfort until you find out what's right.