The Young

The night’s begun
And my braids have come undone
They’ve fallen at your feet in a pile of thunder
Strange but not unkind
Are the mazes in our minds
Let’s go together now
And let them take us under
Oh, golden fire
We are down but we’re not tired
We’re just resting in these
Doldrums of your song
And all our work will travel on
And leave us nothing to drink from
But this is not the time
To be alone and worry
It might mean something to the young
These things we’ve made
How long can they parade?
I feel them moving now, they’re always leaving
But so long and true
Are the times I look at you
Your face is like a poem that I keep reading
And have we done anything for the young?
Will they see these conclusions that we’ve drawn?
And all our work will travel on
And leave us nothing to drink from
But this is not the time
To be alone and worry
It might mean something to the young
And this is not the time
To be alone and worry
It might mean something to the young