Borrowed Time
Our time here’s only borrowed,
Our allocated years,
A blended combination,
Of pleasure, joy and fears.
But illness won’t discriminate,
It’s random who gets what,
We don’t know which is our fate,
Or What will occur or not.
And even then unclear,
Will the treatment do it’s job?
All we can be is hopeful,
Too much time that it won’t rob.
No point being pessimistic,
Cos there really is no use,
Let’s look towards the future,
On the planet let me loose.
Cos our time’s only borrowed,
Could be long or could be few,
My illness won’t contain me,
Cos I’ve still too much to do.
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