A pen and paper haven't been hard to find.
The words I search for though haven't been kind!
The past maybe I too often looked at,
The future may never really be fact.
The age old wisdom ringing tonight I sleep,
The road may be long, the climb too steep.
As long as I have you to hold,
Somewhere to be when I feel cold,
I care not for the what the future may be
While the past's something I refuse to see.
With demons that were or will be.
The knight that battles, a fool is he.
'cause how does it matter what life really meant
As long as the tense of your joy is present.
