I Have Questions

How old do most armadillos live until? Do they roll through the years with a shell made of will? I read somewhere they make it to fifteen or so, But do they dream in their burrows? I don’t know. I have questions, floating in my brain, Little sparkly mysteries I can’t quite explain. From the stars to the shrimp in the sea, The world keeps whispering, “Come wonder with me.” If a recipe calls for three eggs, what do I do When I just need half — one and a half, who knew? Do I whisk them together and measure by sight, Or just hope breakfast turns out right? I have questions, weird and sincere, Like who first decided to chew gum, my dear? Was it boredom or genius or sweet destiny? To make sticky joy from a tree? Do shrimps have feelings when they swim away? Do they laugh, or cry, or just live day to day? And what’s the difference between atheists and agnostics, Is it faith or the fear of not knowing who’s watching? I have questions, some big, some small, Some don’t have answers, maybe that’s the call. To stay a little curious, wild, and free, ‘Cause the world’s one big mystery. So if you’ve got more questions, write them down, my friend, We’ll sing them together ‘til the very end. I don’t need the answers, I just need the song — ‘Cause asking’s been the point all along.