I am beginning to fall although some would much rather call it fail
But the thing about falling is you can rise once again and continue to scale
I am almost to the point where I might decide, not to rise but to wail
And drown in ale till I am inebriated and cannot recall
The pale man staring back in the mirror at all
Seems to be a pattern, the older I grow the more I grow sadder
I fear that at any moment I might no longer matter
Not only to you but matter to me, what is a matter with me?
Seems like I am living to die but I am dying to live
I wish I could feel like a child again
So tomorrow I will rise and continue to cry in the morning alone
But maybe my sorrow will somehow not see tomorrow
And I can finally smile for a while on my own
I think I might try to smile instead of cry
I do not think I can go on living to die—so maybe I will rise
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