I try making sense of life. The struggles, the pain and strife. I got no degree in philosophy. Life’s like a xylophone, cuz I don’t play the xylophone. Seems it should be easier for me. Can it be just me who feels that sharing not greed should be a bigger part of the plan? Maybe it's I who's got a beam in her eye. Just so much I’ll never understand. Look hard, you might find a bright side. Easier to spot a back slide. Armies invade, a sadist parade. So do I ask a lot, that we be thankful for what we’ve got. You can do you, and I’ll do me too. Babies born, no instructions. User manual, just word of mouth. Learn the game reproduction. Quick before your body goes south. We enter the world alone, get handed a xylophone, some mallets or not. Some get a head start. Each day, you bang away. With luck, you might just learn to play a song that you’ve drawn from your heart.
