Where does it all go?
The tears, the fears, the beers?
The lies, the ties, the tries?
Where does it all go?
Why does it leave?
The sun, the gun, the fun?
The day, the play, the say?
Why does it leave?
Where do I go?
When I lose what was said?
When my beating heart is dead?
Where do I go?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Interesting choice of rhythm and rhyme, but very effective - nice flow and very suitable conclusion. Indeed, where will we go after we die? I guess we'll never know until it happens! ; P -Leslie-