Why is life incomplete?
Like a song without a beat?
I dont know all the words or know how the song ends.
It's like i'm holding a pen in my hand, trying again
to express all my thoughts in a letter to my best friend
But i must go right on singing my song, writing my friend
Doing it beautifully! Singing~ Writing! To the very end!
if you feel like thes, my friend
'join the club!' 'Fill out your card'
We are all in this 'club',
Being lonely makes living hard.
Yes, i must go right on singing my song, writing my friend
Doing it beautifully! Singing!
Writing! To the very end!
Though my life's incomplete
I will try, try till i die, to make life beautiful.
And then i will know 'why?