On this journey I am,
What mile is left to cover?
This ocean looks like a dam,
I hope you do not call me a rover.
At the horizon of greatness,
Nothing in it, but sting of bitterness,
The ransom for success,
Is more to that your sweatiness.
I came into this world pantless,
My advent to some is happiness,
But my tears rolled across my cheek,
The doc was almost frick.
The cost to get my cloths,
Is all I need to know,
Blame me not, for this I must doth,
This life seems like a ski with no snow.
If thorns must taste my blood,
Just for me to afford,
And make my way to the top,
This will I do till my blood put a stop.
The fact of life you must know,
Not all wants your head to grow,
To get yourself beyond the shoulder,
Be ready to pay for the ladder.