too bright a flame

such easy choices made by those still young

who do not see the meanings of each hour

but hope to be there when the green woods flower

and other words come flying off the tongue

these are triumphs all of which we've sung

before old time could our weak hearts devour

in slender hope that's we'd still have the power

that from our last reserve of pain was wrung

no other option left but truth to tell

we'd go the same dull route if given chance

to start all over and redo the game

it's not as if we play it all that well

but more that we just know only this dance

and are afraid to show too bright a flame