Our lives in twain, the heart's desire,
The sinful fears and righteous fire;
To make quick meat the lives of men,
From sucked babes to dust again.
What lies beneath the title page,
A lover's quarrel, a poor man's grave;
A passion cry, a madman's sigh,
The smell of powder, death and thighs.
We wander through a file of days,
Distracted by our petty ways,
Until one day we live no more,
But cease to be and cut the cord.
"Remember me", we cry to late,
"My life was more than just two dates."
But what if we could go again?
If God said YES upon a whim.
If you were free to choose anew,
Would you choose me
To be with you?