The tragedy to live is the hope we give.
The falls of death knocking at out our door leaves to a spring in our step.
Willing to participate but wanting to never get pick.
The game is never as simple as when us two are playing it.
You lose the war but win the battle so which one was your best.
The last to start is usually the one who is the best.
You hate the game but never stop playing it.
When will it become a way to live and not an act to shield?
To shield the war’s winner and the loss of the power that was gain.
This is just the game of life.