Will they stumble across this static, in what is left of time,
Can we live forever - by verse, and word, and rhyme?
Little stays much longer than life, and how we reflect in times of strife...
When all is gone and done, what say you - how far we've come?

I wonder if ever, somewhere, someway...
again will there be a long lost soul,
pondering lyrically these thoughts that I know
thinking to himself in quiet so bold,
protecting his fear of what time will hold...

Memories may fade, like warmth from cold...
I don't know who wrote it, some dead guy of old.