The weary road stretches before me,
all in a tangled mess.
For this is the road of life,
all a tattered test.
This road is very well traveled,
that’s why it looks so worn.
Many a man has walked upon it;
in joy, indifference, and scorn.
This road has seen so much,
all different kinds of faces.
The good and the bad,
so many different races.
The road never breaks,
yet how many it holds.
The road only sits,
growing weary and old.