Why are we born if only to die?
We celebrate births and death makes us cry
Why do I dream of good friends who are dead?
Am I there with them or are they alive in my head?
Why do I have so many questions as I've grown old?
I had all the answers when I was young and bold
I have doubts about Jesus and I know that's not right
I'm beginning to wonder if I'll ever see the light
I envy believers, for their faith will guide them through
I'll be in the lonesome valley, alone not knowing what to do
I've lived life to the fullest and know I must die
My only regret is the unanswered question why?
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