The Book Of Life Is A Diary
I let my eyes fly over the pages,
The fire in it, burns and it rages,
The story of life where we're all stuck in cages,
This life we've been living for all of these ages.
I feel it burn and I try to hold on,
The flame though, burnsto smokeand before you know it it's gone.
I turn the next page seeing words full of crime,
But it is then that I realize it was blank the whole time.
The book of life is a diary,
You write you own way,
The way that you live it,
All of the days.
You make think it's fate,
All the pages have phrases,
Well it is all of your words,
Where all you have to say is,
I trace the words with my finger
Is this really my life?
I let just in painlinger
Like the wound of a knife
The book of life is a diary,
No words one can lend,
But as you turn the last page,
Is it really the end?