If we ask ourselves questions
Of life: why we are born,
Why we cry, why we laugh,
And why we die,
Why we love and why we hate,
We relise that there is no simple answer
Everything is suppose to be a litte too vague
Like the far away mountains
Hidden in the early mornings
Behind the light drizzle
Falling through the fogs of goodbyes

We don’t need to ask all this:
Why like this, why now, why not that
If we are to exist
On this planet however short or however long
If we can walk the truths
Shout the courages
Embrace the comamarades with our hearts and the rest
We try
Then perhaps we will know
Perhaps never anything
But at least we’d say that we lived
That we lived with the same heart

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