Who's time is it that I bestow
here upon these feelings low
as tides should turn and often do
when to myself I am untrue

Who's words are these that I express
wondering if I've ever known best
what leads me to this worn out path
of leafless trees and matted grass

Who's song is this that I do sing
that whistles in the coming spring
that rises with the morning sun
in constant refrain, never done

Who's life is this that I now live
if I have not learned to forgive
then I could not be true to myself
and therefore would be someone else

So on I go to the nevermore
dreams in hand some yet in store
I pray to God my fellow man
to be someone I lend a hand

then my time shall be worthwhile
if today I put a single smile
upon a face that wears a frown
rest well I will when night falls down






ajs

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