For, this journey man cannot predict
As we turned into time addict
Let me not traverse the journey of wrath
For, the shortest and fastest journey is death.
No one knows whence he will reaches
No time is late, no time is early
No speedometre does count fairly
All manners of problems do grind life to ashes.
Of em in the sick beds have hope
But of em in the grave crave dust
Thus, of all the moment of the earth try to cope,
Do not move before the hands of time, for things good as rust.
Cling and cuddle patience in all your journey
For, slowly, slowly goes this journey.