We all stumble , falter and fall
No more than the dust after all

We rant , pretend or rave
But there are no words coming from the grave

Our time is spent whether we pay
Our lives granted a fixed number of days

How many full moons caught your eye
Now you are asking me "Why?"

Don't you see all of it is in vain
Brings us back to the quesion of dust again

The answer my friend ?
It's blowing in the wind



Last stanza by Robert Zimmerman aka Bob Dylan .