To tell the truth, life is too short to waste
One day we're here, the next we're simply not
The cold of dread my bones seem to have ate
The dread of the thought of being forgot
Where fame and fortune can't save me or none
If silver was able to buy more life
Think how many great folks would not be gone
Scared of the thought of not being alive
But a piece of us can make us live on
Through paper or action, it can be done
Your wisdom and thoughts can be passed upon
The conscience of others one after one
Dying is unavoidable for all
Kept alive with what you left back for all