When I see streets of life
In the streetlights of strife
It cuts me like a knife
To see I've much more to go
Than to grow
Realizing life works in the opposite way
At end
I find myself
Growing more
Than the work done behind
In many ways
The modern lanterns
Amidst motel lintels
Seem rather mellow
At first glance
My lady seems ravishing
But the smell of her...
I'll put my life's work
Into a concordant
The frets raise the pitch
Somehow I'm fretting
With my doubts
In life's pitch