There will be a tomorrow,
that is most certain.
In spite of all the sorrow,
there won't be a final curtain.
That curtain of black cloth,
blocking the morning Sun.
Searching the broad horizon,
looking for our life's fun.
"Is it me?", she said one day.
"I'm sure I'm not the only one,
or can I be sure and say,
my life has now begun?"