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I Was Here
par
Stephen Flaherty
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Why does a boy carve his name on a tree? Or the firstborn inherit the throne? What is a sculptor aspiring to be When he spends half his life carving stone? Kings build their tombs for the ages Poets and fools fill up their pages What are we hoping for? What do we fear? I say we yearn to leave something that lasts To be known for what little we've done Men tell their children the tales of their pasts And each man gives his namе to his son Something in song or in story Something in blood Something of glory Somеthing that won't fade away in a year Well, I will not flicker and die like an ember Too many men flicker and die I will leave something behind to remember Somehow I must Don't ask me why I have no son At least, none I can claim And no patience for carving in stone All that I have are my skill and my name And this chance To make both of them known This is my key to the portal How I can leave Something immortal Something that time cannot make disappear Something to say "I was here!"
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