I want to write the future of my possible disbelief
To look upon the things that have yet to be defined
Grasp their measure, their melancholy and the grief
Of a thousand days of an old soul always misaligned
Every moment written down without the guide of fate
Searching for the proper words to fully demonstrate
Why it is that when you”re near I always complicate
In ways untold the ways we hold our passions innate
Truth we seek is true indeed if honest motives rule
Hunted by the thoughts of what we might not ever be
Ours is neither old or new or stoked by normal fuel
Until our hopes are changed with that we cannot see