Then what would my life be?
Would I be held by
ideals and heart's misery?
Would I feel the need to stand
For it is right to any man?
Would I lose many nights of sleep
Would I often turn to weep
Would my heart much freer be
if I could just but find the key?
Would once I let the worry go
Could I be joyful great and full
Would taste that of sleep ?
Or would I find but coldness keep
My soul to leave again
Would my weary eyelids close
And open to but joy
Or would I find but heart of stone
My soul to weigh or break?
Could I learn to look and see
Only that of joy
Or would I then forget to thank
And count my blessing ne'er
At time I wish my soul to rest
So weary I must be
If I digress and do not see
What would that truly mean?
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