Which flight of stairs must I now climb?
Life really only gives one chance –
one choice before all dust is dust
and iron hearts return to rust –
and then to dust which holds no rust.
What way is left but which we choose –
these steps are not but those we make.
What path we choose is ours to take.
And climbing high, dreaming of God
who guides us through bright heavens’ stars
we know which way is right for us.
These steps will rust and then be dust.
These stairs are dust.
All rust us dust.
God is dust.
I am dust.
You are dust.
We’re all dust.
All dust is dust.
But the choice is yours to take.