A Superior Race

Though racism some people like to embrace There is no such a thing as a superior race We are born of woman and born to die The same for the monarch as for you and I And whether you die as a young child of four Or live to be ninety or a century or more Each day that you live one day nearer your last You physically cannot return to the past The cricket who lives in the crack in the wall Is no less of a mortal than us after all His span than ours may be shorter for to chirp and call But to the scythe of the reaper we too have to fall And though the praise of celebrities some love to sing A superior race there is no such a thing.