The measure of pleasure is hard to explain
Caught in a tempest, what a song we might sing
They say that the moment cannot truly last but
Don’t let it go, hold on to it fast!

Catching the train to a lost destination
The tune that we’re riding is not for the faint
With gestures we made just to get through the day
The fact remains that we can’t walk away

There’s nary the time to settle the past
We’re holding on fast to our very last chance
For miracles passing and echoes dancing
We tender reflections of our own sweet intentions