My life on earth is nothing bright like the sun
Coral is far more red than my blood’s red
If life be fair, why then should mine be fun
If dreams be brighter, then doom wanders in my head

I’ve heard stories of men rising from bottom to top
But no such stories dream I when down I lie
Should dreams be such haunted, shan’t I to my life put a stop
And mine self seize feeding with the Hakuna Matata lie?

I love to tell myself that life is one step at a time
Yet I know, a snail’s stride is far better
At times to myself I preach, that life is all but God’s time
Yet from within myself, voices emerge with flattery

But still, with such burden placed on my shoulder
Strides I shall cover and witness no opportune door shutter