It will not make much difference friend a hundred years from now,
If you live in a stately mansion or a floating river scow.
If the clothes you wear were a tailor made or just pieced together somehow,
If you eat big steaks or beans and cake a hundred years from now.
Won't matter what your bank account or the maker of car you drive,
For the grave will claim all your riches and fame and the things for which you strive.
There's a deadline that we all must meet, noone will show up late.
It won't matter all the places you've been, each one will keep that date.
We will only have in eternity what we gave away on Earth.
When we go to the grave we can only save the things of eternal worth.
What matters friend the earthly gain for which some men will bow?
For your destiny will be sealed you see a hundred years from now.
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