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My body’s tired and my soul is sore,
regrets of old, what for?
What’s lost is lost,
what can be done…
but move on now,
toward tomorrow’s sun.
It’s just… the mind is weak,
it clings to hope…
hope that tomorrow,
we’ll be back, on that slippery slope.
Nowhere to go, nothing to do,
so I’m sitting here, thinking of you…
And as this spring night slips away,
so does my hope wander astray.
When the summer comes,
what will remain?
Will I have moved on,
or will I have stayed the same?
