You don't run this show.
Some things maybe you can guess
But most we'll never get to know.
Blown on a wind gust,
Or poll'n hoping for a flow'r,
We're doom'd to fly where'er we must.
Freely through the sky
Means giving up our grip on Earth
Knowing that either way we die.
It's not hard to be
Relax'd when you no longer feel
That you need control to be free.
Wow, I chose a difficult (and awkward) form ... It's just how it came out.