“I was almost, so were you

there are many almost, more than a few.

I almost finished a career,

but–well–you know.

I was almost President, well — almost Mayor.

I was going to Sierra Leone, almost got there.

Almost made a million on my job,

almost didn’t need to steal or rob.

I was almost there, almost a success,

Almost, almost, now only a mess.

Almost there, almost free,

now all alone, it’s only me.

No more almosts, no plans can be

I’ll never taste love, never be free.

I might have made the Hall of Fame,

And made myself a wond’rous name. 

I almost climbed up mountains,

And walked along famous city streets

Yet now my life is almost spent,

within myself, not worth a cent. 

For haw can I, made of dust,

carry on, alone, ready to almost bust?

How shall I leave my footprints in the sands of time?

Or overpower this strange will of mine? 

Almost, almost, my life’s been full of these,

taller than mountains, deeper than seas.

Almost leading me to yonder heights,

beckoning me beyond life’s span,

Almost becoming a better man.

Almost, almost, it just can’t be,

A life without live, mean’t for me…”