Pages fall from the calendar,
like leaves on a Red Oak
in mid-September.
Friends come and go,
with the same hopes
that they'll be remember .
Another one has come and gone.
As hard as it gets,
I don't feel alone.
I think I can go, a few more rounds
I'm gonna keep pushing up,
so nothing holds me down.
Who'd I show love,
who did I show not?
When they were hungry...around
my table, i can't find a spot?
Ashes to ash, dust to dust.
To many we love, too few
do we trust.
This is the question we'll be asked,
not one but all of us.
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