We tilting whirl, from age to age,
In dash-mad stride t'ward Death's door dark,
In moments weak, we blossom short,
'Fore books we hit, and things done get,
Bucks we pass, and tender store,
With chairs held high, we time so pass,
The music cut, low bring the lights,
There we are, or were we here?
Tails we race and runs we chase,
For fear we fade by even's dim,
Ever moving, ever light,
Fires the heart, in blazes life,
The Sun's alight,
Just stand, no flight!