Excitement still reigns in stead of my brains
As we want to know how things might still go.
So I waited until fate started knocking at my gate
To show me how to handle this without a row
As this was the stuff of dreams and not of other petty things
And the dream was true in my point of view
Telling me at last that our youth was past.
And that things didn't go right as we thought they might
After we have said our lines too many times
As the decision we made will one day cascade
to lower the price of our sacrifice
How we intend this thing should now end
With enough compassion not to consume the moment of bloom
That made me a friar at the altar of fire
But not making room for the prophet of doom.
When we are alone for our acts to atone.
But I won't see you so if very old you grow
Far better to remember a sunny December
Than to do what you're told when the winter is cold.