When this shell is gone
Here in this little ditty
I’ll tell you how I feel
I like to put my feelings out
And guess I always will
There’s one thing that does worry me
What I really want to know
Is ‘when I leave this blessed shell’
Will my words then lose their glow?
Don’t need the whole wide world to see
Don’t want that kind of fame
I’d just like some little group
Where people feel the same
As me, to learn to love my words
And gain from them some joy
I’d like to think that when I die
My art, they’ll not destroy.
I really don’t know why this is
It’s just the way I feel
I won’t know much about it
This fact, I guess is real
But still I’d like the knowledge
That my stuff it will live on
Even when, this shell I ride
Has been a long time gone.
9 August 2013 @ 1737hrs.