One day,
at the end of todays, we’ll run out of tomorrows.
It will end like a haze bearing our sorrows.
At the end of today’s would your happiness stay,
knowing it is your last to make it last?
What good is debt, in face of death?
Would you cherish all who you met or treasure every breath,
Knowing all the things that tomorrow never brings?
Or would you leave the world The same as any other day?
Whether you mourn or rejoice, your voice, hold dear
for it’s the last you’ll hear.
When tomorrow brings the end of all things,
Things we can’t do later, we appreciate greater.
Still we live chasing tomorrow like it’s something we can borrow.
While every passing day, another morrow slips away.