Somebody told me life was meant to be lived

They never mention about having nothing left to give

Drained of the energy of my youth given to white lies

trying to tell the truth

Each of the vision I hold had me not with much gold

In the end you just seem to get old where are the lies they told

Soft country mornings are lost in my dreams, plaques on the wall

Really do not mean much more anymore, they don’t buy groceries down at the store

A pat on the back is followed by the knife so goes the wisdom of living a good life

Sunshine and rain pretty much look the same eyes glassed over in pain

Walk in the morning with a limp never even new I was sick tomorrow will allow me to see the seed I spread but it is not free. Each day I grace this earth questions arise about my birth

So what is the reason for traveling on, something to do with me and the setting sun