One thinks of life as living gay, to enjoy ones self from day to day,
But think of life as others live it, a gardener as he shapes a privet.
A miner, digging
underground, financiers that make the world go round.
They lay their leisure hours aside, and only in God will they confide
For He determines the span of life, the amount of gaiety and strife.
For our life on
earth is but borrowed time, a play, an act, a pantomime.
For a power holds us from inside, makes clear the laws, which we must abide
It proves to us what is right and wrong, lifts forth our hearts in praise and song
It tells us of a Judgement Day, and when we kneel just what to say.
To clarify what's right,
what's wrong, before I lift my voice in song.
My faith is weakened day by day, I try so hard yet cannot pray.
Everything I've loved is gone, and life alone is a lonely one.
What purpose have I
served on earth, my contribution, what's it worth?
The same thought haunts me day by day, why was I cast in this one act play?
My voice cries out in fervent plea, when.... will someone answer me?