Our lives are like a song
In a language we don’t know.
Our feet tap to the beat of the world
When we feel that special flow.
It starts out as a whisper
And builds into the cry
Of a baby with the will to sing
But no knowledge how or why.
It may turn many corners.
It changes every verse.
The song always gets better
Even if it may sound worse.
Some songs will stop too suddenly
And some go on too long.
Since we don’t know what we’re singing
Why care if something’s wrong?
You can sing however’s comfortable.
When all is said and sung
I hope I’m singing nonsense
‘Til I get my iron lung!
The Daily Travesty 