The Bridge of Existence's Boon

George Pratt, dissatisfied in his heart, Stood on a bridge, contemplating his part. A stranger approached, dressed oddly, it's true, Polite and well-mannered, but not like me or you. They struck up a talk, on that Christmas Eve, George shared his desire, his wish to leave. The stranger granted his wish with a twist, Said George was never born, ceasing to exist. Upon his return, George was taken aback, In town, he discovered an unforeseen lack. Unrecognized faces, no flicker of recognition, His friends, like lost souls, lost in their own mission. His little brother, once saved from a drowning plight, Had perished without George, a tragic sight. His wife, now married to another soul, No longer his partner, her heart he couldn't console. [guitar interlude solo riff] Offering her a brush, a gesture so kind, He was forced to leave, her husband unkind. Their son, with a toy gun, proclaimed with a sigh, "You're dead, won't you perish?" George wondered why. Back to the bridge, George questioned the man, Who revealed the truth of life's precious plan. He had taken for granted the gift he possessed, The lesson was learned, his heart now impressed. Begging for his life back, George pleaded and cried, The man, understanding, let his wish coincide. Returning to normal, his world was restored, He embraced his wife tightly, love fully outpoured. Attempting to convey, a brush drew his gaze, The very one he proffered, in a parting haze. Without a glance back, he sensed the verity, That existence's grand boon, he had at last set free.