Life is like a game,
A game designed for the strong in spirit and mind.
It has no name or shame.
And, unless they have a sturdy rock to hide behind,
The weak will not survive.
Without the gift of words, feel, the ability to percieve sounds,
smell, or sight,
Your just as good as a lamp, who lacks light.

The elongated journey through
The lucious green jungle
In the morning dew,
Paying our bungle
To the ones who let us be,
And do not ask for much, for they arent mortal.
But we're the oneas who hold the key
To the final portal
Within this everlasting dream.
Life is a bed full of guns and roses
Right beneath our noses.