The things that we write,

In the darkness of night,

Somehow, seem deeper,

Than how we look at them in light

Before our day, we convince our minds

That life is tomorrow, and theres plenty of time,

Meanwhile, you look up, and fifty years flies by

The silence of passing our dreams along the ride

Gone with the relentless

Tick and tock of the clock

And only at night

Do things quiet, and stop

Allowing you to think

Of what it is you lost

When abandoning your dreams

For whats safe, and low cost

But what about passions?

What about hope?

The joy of knowing

Your soul never broke

Never broke, or submitted

Like some obeying child

Make your line, dont speak your mind

Name rank, single file

And march your living

By their beat, and their drum

We must see what this means,

Before its all said and done