There will come a time,
When, days will grow old, like dying candles.
When, giant machines will die, with their last whine and grown.
When, cold rain will fall to wash away the dust from the past.

Where have all the people gone?

There will come a time,
When, forests and trees. Have overrun the rubble of ancient cities,
When, ghosts of the past will ask, “What have we done?”

Where have all the people gone?

There will come a time,
When, no one will hear the sound of wind blowing,
When, no one will see the sunrise again.

Where have all the people gone?

There will come a time,
When, a gigantic sailing ship, arrives from beyond the stars,
When, people will ask, “Is this our new home at last?”

Copyright © Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.