Progressions

[adalger]

We were young and we were foolish and we thought we knew it all,
And we never gave a thought to what misfortunes might befall,
But we discovered as we aged
That no matter how we raged,
Soon or late our lives were caged around with duties that would call.

Youthful joys have been forgotten; they have fallen by the way.
Happiness, like strength, is growing weaker every day.
Though we struggle and we strive,
And we work our nine-to-five,
No one here gets out alive, and no one hears us when we pray.

All that waits for us is madness, and perhaps an early grave,
And our children likely won't remember everything we gave:
Everything we ever had
Just to be a mom, a dad,
And they'll wonder why we're sad we didn't have enough to save.

At the end, a little stone will tell them where to find our dust,
And they'll come to see us once a year because they feel they must.
They will leave a flower by,
Shed a tear and breathe a sigh,
Then go home and age and die and leave their children to adjust.