I can easily call it quits, but why should I.
I can easily decide to end this endless saga called life,
But why should I.
The lure of the senile darkness which I often see around,
Calls me every night as i return to my weary nest,
Battered, Bruised, Tired and Lost,
I get an inch closer to its embrace.
That is when I can easily call it quits,
But why should I.
Why should I when I still shine with some juvenile smile,
And some nascent thoughts still provoke me to write,
And your eyes full of life gets me think awhile,
I can easily call it quits, but why should I.