Where collects the thoughts of the paraplegic
sitting alone in thoughts
of a past no longer perfect ?

The glowing red sun sets behind the hill
as life flows by against our will

Every step has a purpose
even when we are running away

Each cause has effect
but once motored
it is here to stay

Tell me of the sands of time
how fickle they stand

Against the winds of change
a dead man's hand

Everyday , so much the same
never the moment to be again
Such a little word
that means so much , "never" again

Blessed yet all are the same
taken for granted , a dance of denial
Catch us before our great fall
Parachute us . . . or we won't
be even able to crawl