Co-written by my sister, Claire, and I.
The Meaning of Life
Life without meaning is like a bird without wings,
That's what they say, but it's wrong.
From a distance I've heard that it still sings,
Flourishing in its' own little song.
The bird, it may flutter and not get very far,
But when the dawn turns to dusk it's still there.
Forever flicker, fade and turn to ash does a star,
But somewhere within the world they still care.
The bird is now old, but a shadow of life,
With no wings, no dreams and no purpose;
Wavering on the edge of the knife
Yet it sings and it sings until it's dead.
