We Are

We are like Nature's Seasons to life we come and go
And despite our life's achievements or what we have to show
For our time on this Planet there's an end for us all
To the deadly scythe of the reaper we eventually must fall.

The old men in the bar-room talk of battles fought and won
In an old war fought decades ago but when all is said and done
They cannot live in the present when they are tied to the past
And the clock on their existence is ticking rather fast.

We are like the seeds of thistles that in the winds do blow
For our genes for to outlive us our seeds we have to sow
Our dreams are seldom small dreams for greatness we do strive
But is it that important that our genes do survive?

There is an end to all of us and would you not agree
That we are not as important as we make ourselves out to be
Is talk of human mortality based on a feel good lie
Since we are only mortal and we are born to die.