Cycles
And so man has learned to live and love the beauties that surround him.
But just as surly as the lilies of the field must one day perish, man knows

that he too must one day die. But no longer does he fear death, for he
realizes that death is just a part of man's cycle.
Summers almost over now and the leaves drift through the sky.

Remembering days of old when I used to ask it why?
It had to change -- Isn't it strange? But beautiful.
I am so much wiser now but some things are still not clear.

I have found that growing old is not a thing to fear.
Yes it's strange -- But the change -- is beautiful.
Summer as my younger days lie behind me in the past -

So I will love the present for I know it can not last.
Yea
I can see the end is near but my life is not through.

To close my eyes and rest in peace and then be born anew,
A bell will ring, for a flower in spring -- It will be beautiful.


Waiting to be born
And so man knows that one day he shall be reborn.
But he can't help but wonder -- What will it be like?

What will it be like when I am born?
What will it be like when I am born -- I have only to $$#ume.
For my mind is but the sperm and this earth be the womb.

Unlike other seeds that sprout from Mother Earths face,
I alone am aware of my growth.
The deeds good and bad are the diet I consume,

And I concede to a tasting of both.
Waiting to be born - Waiting to be born
What will it be like when my mind is set free

from this cage of flesh and bone?
Will the being that sired me save me a place,
or cast me exposed from his home?

What will it be like when my mind is set free
from this cage of flesh and bone?
Will the being that sired me save me a place,

or cast me exposed from his home?
Well I am far greater than the sperm that surround me
for my birth will be of my choosing.

But envious I be of those lesser than me,
for they have no chance of losing.
So here I lie through years of pregnancy

a seed that is tattered and torn.
For I am but a sad and lonely being,
waiting -- waiting to be born.