In all of the directions of what you want to tell me
Comes anything that looks better in motion
Although I am torn by the reasons
I try hard to project
Fact is, there are moments I yield to emotion

I can relax out of earshot of any kind of danger
That does not scatter or burn anyone else
Yet I am not meaning to remember
Why all the hours acknowledge
What I don’t know, ‘cause I won’t tell myself

Acceptance, my sweetheart is a difficult thought
Believe me; I know what has to be done
While held under the watchful eye
Of the hand tightly holding
Love’s gun