I always wonder what the last song I hear will be,
what words will grace the fingertips of my grave
and will they make a difference in the way that I decay?
What print will they leave on my soul, strong enough to stay
when the oak I said I didn't want, but got, has rotted away?
I always wonder what my last song will be,
if the strings will harmonize with me,
and dance with the wind,
and steal the tears from my family,
because God knows they will have plenty,
when they hear the last song that I chose
before I said my time on earth was plenty,
I always wonder what my last song will be,
if I should make it sad, to make it easier to go,
or happy to make sure they know that's not why I did,
I always wondered if I would still be able to here it, after
God knows that song would be something I could live for, forever