• As the petals on my rose begin to wilt i wonder
    Will my death be that of a rose
    The very essence of me wilting away
    Until there is nothing left
    Or will my death be that of a sparrow
    Who lives out it's life to a ripe old age
    Singing its life's song on each glorious day that passes
    And goes peacefully in its sleep..
    Life is life...and death is death
    We cannot choose what happens to us in the end
    But as long as we live our lives to the fullest
    And breathe each breath as though it were our last
    We will not live our lives in veign
    For even if age robs us of our minds, and our bodies
    And our hope, and the petals of our internal roses begin to wilt
    We always have that etrnal sparrow that lives on
    Even after our bodies and minds have gone
    And it will continue to sing our song
    And tell our story.