"I can't complain, but sometimes I do"
Joe Walsh, Life's been good
Number the days you hope to last,
The maximum at your command;
Then review your tallied past,
The hourglass's grains of sand:
How much time is lost in thought,
Dreams, attempts at making sense?
As if reflections of that sort
Have ever made a difference
Life's endeavour is to engage,
To go out to other hearts, connect:
It does no good to mourn or rage,
Or think of the past with regret:
Pain and sickness, loss and death
Complaining is a waste of breath
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