Here I lay close to death,
About to breathe my final breath.
I think of all the things I’ve done,
And all the paths I’ll never run.
And all the leaves up in the trees
And all the water in the seas
And all the children born today
And all the souls that drift away
But what I think of most of all,
Is will I rise or will I fall?
Will I hear the angels sing?
Or has this life meant anything?
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