A sense of fleeting meaning, Rocks thrown for no reason, Shoes with no laces to tie, Tears but nothing to cry. Pages torn and turned, Days passed and waved, An unfortunate lonely day, Someone asks to be saved. I won’t speak of death, I won’t deny it’s truth, This man, what’s his name, He’s guiding these troubled youth. So, one must imagine hope, One must imagine a way ahead, His words, they shall be spread, And we can thank the cows that moo.