Morrow - Mario Egie In life’s frantic race, We pace for a climax. In morrow’s hands’ rides a wheel of fortune. Against the clock, the show must go on. In high hopes, With folded sleeves, Hands on deck, It's time to take the bull by the horn. All that morrow harbors, We set our hearts on. Life's sweet pleasures and treasures, We give chase. When daylight hits without the morrow, Life's precious gifts stays hid. The recede of light to the west, awakens one's mind to the truth. When we are over the hill, Waned from chasing for a month of Sundays, All that is lost is made known. For the morrow we hoped never comes, And the gifts of each day, we ruined, By living only in the morrow.