Chapel Hill - Rosa

When the waves have started to crumble and the

Mountains smooth and die take me where the road

Is humble where the oldest men have died.

And i’ll lay and make my bed there midst the beat

And treaded raods midst the memories of the dead

There stronger now and lonesome cold.

For i ask for not a second with a comfort in my Chest instead one million years of wondering

Till i reach my final rest.

Every kid must ask the question why do all our

Heros die. did they live to wake in the morning or Live to sing under golden skies.