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 .
Aug 5, 2017
Aug 5, 2017 at 2:06 AM UTC
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 .
Request permission to use this poem