Picture this: you’re eighty-three and open up a photo book
All your family’s front of you and sees each smile; every look
I assume most in the room have not even been born of yet
But each of them, with every grin, will hear the things you won’t forget
You will sit there and recall the life you lived “back in the day”
You will tell them things were different “when I was young and at your age”
All the things you wish you’d done, they’ll be lost amidst every word
For they will only hear the trouble caused and all the mischief stirred
Think about that – truly, think
The things that we prioritize
It isn’t work, it’s not the grind
It’s not the lows – it is the highs
Life is given once, you see
It sadly does not last
Cherish every moment, please
They go by far too fast
How the World Should Work 