The Question If

Our life slowly ebbs away
We all live from day to day
The aristocrats just like the poor
Must all die that is for sure.

Like a simple ash tree leaf
Our stay on this earth is brief
Just like the leaves we fade away
We quickly wither and decay.

In my mind I have no doubt
There is a god somewhere about
The place he live I know not where
But one thing sure I know he's there.

Is there a heaven is there a hell?
I don't know it's hard to tell
But one thing for certain you must agree
Is we all must die when'er that be.

The rich all powerful and secure
To fight for them have got the poor
On sunny beaches the rich folk lie
Whilst poor souls sons in wars do die.

A young boy in a city slum
Sits on a doorstep chewing gum
Does prosperity await this lad
Or must he join the dole queue like his dad?

Even when you kneel to pray
The question if gets in the way
If tomorrow I am dead
Let my epitath be read.