The ballad of life, so softly it's sung, whispering, ringing, from choirs above.

A sensational bud on a new blooming flower, the tick of a clock within every passing hour, the beam of the sun, so vibrant, so bright, the disapperance of day transforming to night.

The ballad of life, it blows in the trees, flutters with leaves, flies in a breeze. It's constantly alive though unknown by man, kept awake by the most divine hand.

It smiles at the newest of cries, it gazes quietly into the dead man's eyes, it pushes you forward with every step, giving you every precious breath.

The ballad of life.