The Years

I think I found my way out, (“Get out, Go on.”)
Up from the true-blue way-down. (“Move it, Move on.”)
All with this Joy-Boy / True Love. (“Hold up, Hold on.”)
And all the years have changed.
Ten folded like a day.
Old Death’s dulling sting
To new life blooming.
Oh what would you think of me?
Nothing can change the pain and I don’t want it to.
The sting of blinding spring is what’s left of you.
But, “Get up! Get out! Go on!” are all the signs I see.
Oh what would you think of me…
“You have to find your way out. (Get out. Go on.)
You know what I think now…. (Move out. But hold on)
With all the years you changed:
Ten faced every day.
Old Death’s dulling sting
To new life blooming.”
Nothing can change the pain and I don’t want it to.
“Nothing can change the pain and I don’t want it to.”
Nothing can change the pain and I don’t want it to.
“Nothing can change the pain and I don’t want it to.”