Prey, take my ancient breath, my dear,
And heed my words;
Of empty heart and lonely thought I pray.
Beware that sun which shines so bright
But brings cold light;
To freeze all innocence away.
Beware the nightfall’s silent scream;
The calm before the storm.
Beware the guiding hand of dreams
Which leave you so forlorn.
But most of all; beware my dear,
Of calling time your friend.
It brings with it age and fear,
And six feet in the end.
Enjoy your youth, my cherub child,
Do not look back to think.
For all of us in devils land
Will stop to take a drink.
And when your tree has shed its leaves
And you are standing cold;
Do not turn to time and say,
Oh, when did I grow old?
For time, in all its merry way,
Will turn to you and smile;
And mention all the wrongs you did,
And surely ask you why?
And when this day has come to you
Just turn to time and say,
“Every rose must have its thorns;
And every dog its day.
My petals may be gone now;
But the wounds I made were deep.
My day has come and gone now;
The dog is put to sleep.
But I have made my mark, you see;
On every scarr-ed hand;
I barked, and bit, and roared, and spit;
For I am just a man.â€
“The wrongs I made, I cannot right;
But the rights I made, remain.
And if I had another chance,
I’d do it all again.
For I am pride and I am pain;
I am that all you see.
The day is done; but I have won,
For I am always me.
Though time has turned against me now,
And all must fade to black;
I am proud of who I was,
And I take nothing back.â€
Ìý
