It may make no sense
No sense at all
But listen to this
As man of tall
Shall bend at the knees
As petals fall
And the breaking of day
Is best thought at night
To imagine to the sun
Most vivid in sight
And some days I’m weary
Some days I’m cold
Some days I’m young and others I’m old
Sense is the happen
No need for the why
As we’re born, we exist
And the end, we die.
