I Was Here Marc Kudisch

[SCALA]
Why does a boy carve his name on a tree?
Or the firstborn inherit the throne?
What is a sculptor aspiring to be
When he spends half his life carving stone?

Kings build their tombs for the ages
Poets and fools fill up their pages
What are we hoping for?
What do we fear?

I say we yearn to leave something that lasts
To be known for what little we've done
Men tell their children the tales of their pasts
And each man gives his namе to his son

Something in song or in story
Something in blood
Something of glory
Somеthing that won't fade away in a year

Well, I will not flicker and die like an ember
Too many men flicker and die
I will leave something behind to remember
Somehow I must
Don't ask me why