For my friend, Chris. He’ll know why.
Blow it up or blow it down
No point us hanging around
We start again as a beginner
If we lived as saint or sinner
Still and all, it’s been before
Not by us, so now our chore
Some craven but some brave
Dumb, brazen sum’s a grave
What it is, not bad nor good
Only us, who misunderstood
Repeated from deeps of time
May be no reason nor rhyme
A rhythm, whether fast, slow
Despite what we think, know
Just one thing we may decide
Will it be a hard or easy ride
