What is left to teach a man,
That his living is a lie,
can't he see it in his life,
Then perhaps his eyes are blind.

Or maybe it is his mind,
Telling him that all is right,
just because he sleeps and rise,
Life is like a bowl of ice.

We will leave the way we came,
Forgotten without a trace,
from the dust and unto dust,
It's a debt we live to pay.

© Hussainy