We told our tales as we
sat under mornin's sleepy
sky
With all the colours of the
sunrise shining in our
eyes
One, then another with a
story of yesterday's
lives
or of a lover who had
gone in a moment of
strife
No thought of sleep ever
dwells upon the wise man's
mind
Some task or audience
stealing every moment of his
time
Thus we have learned to live while
mortal man lies waiting to
die
How can we do what must be
done in just one short
life?
And if you ask, then you should
know, if you still doubt you should be
told, it was not we that made it
so, it was by those who went
before
And there you sit tomorrow's
child, so full of love so full of
life, but you must rise to meet the
day, lest you become another
tale, and there you sit tomorrow's