March through mud to find the golden ladder that belongs to you
It was such a nice description but not quite true
Feel your weight touching your hands against your face
Someday you might stumble into a strange embrace
Heed the words of heroes and doctors who spread their germs
Tell me if your famous handshake is still as firm
And after you're through stepping over the shadows of people who you became
Hopefully your favorite color is still the same
Stroke your chin, structure and posture are caving in
But scientists will soon find a way to clone your twin and the march can begin anew
If you want it to
In line to find the golden ladder that belongs to you and no one else but