When We Are Young When We Are Old

When We Are Young, When We Are Old When we are young, (Or so I'm told) We don't ask the things That the Future holds We ask for no Reason, We ask for no Rhyme; We ask that we only Have enough Time To settle The things that we've left undone - To prove We're not the only ones Who care where Mankind may be headed now. Who won't Accept the Status Quo - Who See The Way We Need To Go (Quietly): Being Young is a State of Mind, You can regain it anytime; Just remember That it's fragile- It's as elusive As you're agile: You can only Touch it sometimes Then it's magic; Then it's Sublime. When you are old, You feel the cold, You feel the touch Of advancing Time. You stand on the Inside Where the Young Ones look in; And you think the way They live may be a kind of Sin; We ask that we only Have enough Voice left, To make some difference, To mend the cleft That keeps on spreading Between the Right and Left. In the End we know it goes To whichever group more clearly shows Its willingness to be what it needs to be: We are the First, We are the Last; We are the Present and the Past. We only ask you consider our point of view, It matters not just to us- It matters to you too- If you reject our plea, If you ignore our call, This is our final warning, This is the end of it all; We tried to tell you, Year after year; This was a Thing We needed to fear; But you refused to listen; You refused to hear; This is the End Of everything you thought was real; This is the end of what you thought that you might feel- The Split between the Right and the all-too Real The Alpha and Omega; The facts we can't conceal. And so we point the finger At the reflection of us, And we sadly wonder At the erosion of trust Between our Present and our Past By the way that our feelings Have come to be cast By the ways of our time, By the dreams in our minds, By the hopes of our prime. When we are young, As well as when we're old, The spirits move us As they slowly unfold They make us feel wise, They make us feel strong. They make us believe We can never be wrong. But this just isn't so Not for you or for me There isn't some rule Some way we have to be, In the end it's the searching That really matters the most; The fire that burns Before we all turn to ghosts. The fire that burns, Before we all turn to ghosts.