It's Impossible (From, Even Though There Are No Reasons) Poem by Peter S. Quinn

It's impossible
To live and let die
You are responsible
For the blueness of the sky
Each day is like a love song
With dreams going by
We must just get along
Without asking questions why

There's so much going on
From days of fresh air
But this could soon be gone
With dark clouds everywhere
The days of tomorrow
Is in our own destiny
Don't let it be in sorrow
For our own stupidity

It's not impossible
To give the world its peace
We are so much in trouble
With green fields and trees
Leaves are withering
From the poisons of earth
All this unbalance slithering
Aren’t the pennies worth

It's impossible
To live and let die
It's impossible
To ask not questions why
Life is just going away
Into the dark and deep
Meeting its destiny day by day
Hours for us to weep