Curiosity

A hundred years hence your a dusted relic in a photo album Seeing the light of day when recalled on a cold machine As some byte grown out of some fond curiosity By a future relative looking up your family tree. When you lived you lived a life full of wonder and joy. You accomplished it all: the kids, the house, the gold. You walked on the grandest yellow brick road But now your a dusted relic in a photo album. They read you, your accomplishments, your dreams The places you got your kicks, your habits, your hangouts, Nights at the opera, even your checkered past; But now you see the light of day when recalled on a cold machine. Your in remembrance now, stuck in some overgrown musty grave, With an inscription: He came, He went, He gave How they sneered at you under the dusty desert sky; Now your just a computer byte brought out for their fond curiosity. They looked back, dug up their roots, even left you alone for years. Yet here you are on some tree chart, with a grand old smile and a bib around your neck; You look silly, but what do you know? they know it all! Your just a relic to a future relative looking up their family tree. Do not despair, old soul that once called earth home, No, do not despair! You found your resting place beyond this grave. If only you knew how they envy you now, for they never rest of their despair, They hold all your old fears, a hundred years hence They too are a dusted relic brought out by some fond curiosity.