Once the golden bowl is broken,
once that time becomes our foe;
then who you are is lost,
from the person we did know.
When friends don't recognize you,
because you don't know them;
when you forget, who you are,
you've moved closer to the end.
Once the golden bowl has broken,
only troubles lie ahead;
only heartaches round the corner,
becoming days you dread.
Memory fades into the night,
and in your house, you're lost;
the mind is jumbled, rattled,
your dreams are all but tossed.
Then the golden bowl is broken,
no matter how you've tried;
because the soul's now in limbo,
because, its heart has died.