It's a scary thing, to do.
A frightening thing, to act.
Sometimes it's hard to follow through,
And so you wait in bed, compact.
Beyond that door, there is a world of hurt
And the bed is safe and warm,
But on the chair is your coat and big-boy-shirt,
And you have to face the storm.
Sometimes, at night, you see the stars,
You feel the sky is raining fire
While the dull, electric rush of cars
Makes you wish you don't aspire
To freedom
And to love. Be bold,
And seldom
Will you feel old.
Let the comets grace your skin.
Let the wind caress your hair
And follow down your spine and in
Your chest, and breathe away despair.
Face the lightning on the road
And the fury in the stars.
Leave the safety safe at home.
Give yourself some battle scars.