If life were like a looking glass,
And the future, I could see;
I could pick it up and look inside,
And what it holds for me.
Or if it were a charge account,
The limit without end;
Then it would be forever,
No matter what I spend.
And if it were a puzzle,
Just lying in a drawer;
Then I could simply take it out,
And work it through once more.
Wouldn't it be wonderful,
If life was like a book;
To know each chapter in advance,
I'd only have to look.
But all it is, is what it is,
A mystery, a rhyme;
A tragedy, a symphony,
A space in borrowed time.