Nights had been colder than the one I sit now in,
The darkness did prevail, but it was not within,
Chilled to the bones, but there is a fire inside
I may stumble on my way, but I will finish the ride
I have been a traveler, drifting along the time,
Past to the present now, into the future I sublime,
My story is in the writing, and if I must, I will say,
With the strength to carry on, I will surely stay,
When I flip back the pages that are already fading,
And I am getting older, with the wars that I am waging,
What becomes of the dreams if I close my heart to?
In the abyss, would I fall, but I am not made to,
Am I made for greatness or the race they ask me to run?
They say it is comfortable, but where’s the thrill, where’s the fun,
As I wipe the sweat on my forehead, and the blood in my eyes,
I know I will survive, for my hope never dies,