Footprints In The Sand
If you walk the land, I once lived in,
And go across the places, where I’ve been,
Look about yourself and you could chance to find
Something of a trace, I left behind.

If you feel like turning up the past,
And come across a piece from me at last;
Than it will turn out, that it did survive.
And it wasn’t for nothing, that I lived my life.

I did really play my part,
And I laid myself out far to grace this land.
For what roll I wasn’t good?
There was nothing, that I couldn’t take in hand.
So there still must be something.
It could be anything.
Though it’s only some footprints in the sand.

If the dead could reason,
They would all be pleased to live on in the things, that they made.
Those will call to remembrance, they would realize;
Just when there’s nothing left, then they’re really dead.

So do care about the things, that you may find,
For keeping up, that I will come to mind,
In this far age, which you live in;
In deference of your own origin.

I did really play my part,
And I laid myself out far to grace this land.
For what job I wasn’t fit?
There was nothing, that I didn’t take in hand.
So there still must be something.
It could be anything.
Though it’s only some footprints in the sand.
Though it’s only my footprints in the sand.