These days,
They seem to come and go. Flowing like water in a river,
Flying by like a dove on the wind.
We stand here,
Never knowing, Always guessing,
Wondering where the goodness has gone,
Where they are, where we want to be, in their arms.
Hold on tight,
All through these nights,
Give it time,
Make a rhyme,
'Cause these days, these dreams,
these everyday schemes,
Pass us by,
As the world turns.
