I’m going through a phase in life, it’s called being alive.
It’s the only phase I know I’ll have, so I should try to thrive.
It doesn’t matter what I do, it’s all left up to me;
I can build my own prison walls or choose to live life free.
I can walk a long and lonely path or walk beside you all;
I can divorce myself from nature or I can hear its call.
The choices are all mine to make in this phase I call living;
it can be filled with problems or the simple joy of giving.
Whoever’s here is my own life; the person that I chose,
so I hope you don’t think bad of me in my last repose.
For two things alone are certain in this phase I’m going through;
that as I’ve lived so shall I die and bid my last adieu.
So when the trumpet’s sounding or I feel the scorching fire,
I hope that in a simple way, I’ve made something slightly higher.