It all comes cloudy, far away,
And naked as the storm,
In costumes to keep us quiet,
And stranger’s beds to keep us warm.

A lack of answers begs the question,
Would I still be standing here,
If there was no such thing as failure,
If there was no such thing as fear?

Would I see the open road tonight,
Passing cities, hills and farms?
Or would I wait here until the end,
Dreaming of your arms?