We Are

We are like Nature's Seasons to life we come and go And despite our life's achievements or what we have to show For our time on this Planet there's an end for us all To the deadly scythe of the reaper we eventually must fall. The old men in the bar-room talk of battles fought and won In an old war fought decades ago but when all is said and done They cannot live in the present when they are tied to the past And the clock on their existence is ticking rather fast. We are like the seeds of thistles that in the winds do blow For our genes for to outlive us our seeds we have to sow Our dreams are seldom small dreams for greatness we do strive But is it that important that our genes do survive? There is an end to all of us and would you not agree That we are not as important as we make ourselves out to be Is talk of human mortality based on a feel good lie Since we are only mortal and we are born to die.