Our youth will pass
And our looks will wither.
We’ll discover that our wisdom
Was the confidence of fools,
That fame was fickle
And wealth coundn’t pay for happiness
Or bribe away all sickness.
Hearts will grow weary of passion,
Limbs will ache with dreams of paths un-tread,
And our eyes too often
Will be denied their sleep.
As our autumn distills into winter
We’ll forget to grieve
For those childish beginnings
When we surrendered, unafraid
And dared to be free,
Crazy in love.
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vic briggs 