No one remembers,
how everything began.
Will anyone remember,
when everything ends.
When it does,
we goes to the tales of life.

We are a part of an history,
where no one stands out.
Every one of us,
has to go this way.
Maybe on roses,
maybe on thorn.

Nothing is unimportant,
but everything has a end.
Except this,
This story has no end.
You will not see it,
but maybe will somebody else.

You are not watching what will be left,
when you are leaving.
Becuse when you does,
the earth will have changed.
What do you know,
you almighty.