 | In every tingling second,
We are fading like a color.
We are vanishing little by little.
We will all reach a place,
A place no father will find his son;
A place no mother will find her daughter.
We will all have our own world, a world of grave.
We shall eat nothing, but we shall be eating by Earthworms.
We see today, we might not see tomorrow whereas, we think of tomorrow.
Why don’t we leave tomorrow, and let tomorrow think of itself?
Written by Bolly.
Submitted by Bolly. |  |