Why should
I stand on stage and sing
When
others cannot talk
Or do the
hundred-meter thing
When
others cannot walk
But in a
wheelchair sit
With hands
that cannot knit
Or even
hold a piece of classroom chalk?
Hence, be
silent, tongue of mine
And, feet
of mine, be still
Till the
waters of the Rhine
Stand up
like a hill
Or till
the phone next rings
And answer
it I must
Or once
again sprout wings
Whilst
shaking off the dust
Of a good
night's sleep
To start
anew the day tomorrow always brings
Beginning
with a beep, beep-beep, beep-beep,
As does a
clock that sings
Or
cock-a-doodle-doo's
In its own
clock-like way,
Yes,
cock-a-doodle-doo's
In its own
clock-like way.
