We told our tales as we sat
under morning's sleepy sky.
With all the colors of the sunrise
shining in our eyes.
One then another with a story of yesterday's lies.
Or of a lover who had gone in a moment of strife.

No thought of sleep ever dwells
upon the wise man's mind.
Some task or audience
stealing every moment of his time.
Thus we have learned to live while mortal men stand waiting to die.
How can we do what must be done in just one short life.

And if you ask then you must know.
If you still doubt you should be told.
It was not we that made it so.
It was by those who went before.

And there you sit tomorrow's child.
So full of love, so full of life.
But you must rise to meet the day,
lest you become another tale.

And there you sit tomorrow's child.
So full of love, so full of life.
But you must rise to meet the day,
lest you become another tale.