What would I say if I knew I had one day left What would I do while approaching my last breath I'd cry out the songs from my youth I'd walk through the lilies again I'd run down a cedar pine street Just like when I was a kid From cradle to grave, all praise to the Maker The artist of life, mankind's Creator Creation sings a melody Everything drawn by his light Sun and stars in harmony His painted skies all testify The God of creativity Placed His handprints over life My lungs pour out an offering Poetic joy within the night From cradle to grave, all praise to the Maker The artist of life, mankind's Creator I lift my voice and dance over death Praise in my sling, for a giant's head When I breathe my last, it is not the end My soul will rise with the northern winds I lift my voice and dance over death Praise in my sling, for a giant's head When I breathe my last, it is not the end My soul will rise with the northern winds From cradle to grave, all praise to the Maker The artist of life, mankind's Creator