AS LONG AS THERE’S MUSIC
Writer Author Tim Johnson
- Fiction No
One more string to strum on the guitar,
The poor ol’ harmonica gets one more breath;
The pen gets to write one more humble lyric,
As long as there’s music, there’s no sign of death.
Ah, but then comes the day this poor body gives out,
As on the front door a black wreath is hung.
But then, even then, it falls no real matter,
For then comes eternal, Heaven’s songs to be sung.
Yes, as long as there’s music, death holds no conquest,
Now or hereafter it comes out the same.
Melody, lyric, harmonies sweetest,
Faith brought us home from wherever we came.
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