There he stands at night
Knocking at doors, full of fear and fright
Some are for him closed
Some opened a little and then ignored
And some tolerate, lie and then bolt
So he keeps wandering at night
Full of terror, full of fright
He might end it, he might.
Yet at last
The beautiful heroine appears
With her doors open wide
Shinning more than her white horse
Braver than a Camelot Knight
She might be the one, she might
She might be the home, she might
Arms fully inviting, the smell is dazzling
Warmth and love and hope.
So he falls in those arms and enters the door.
Which closes on them forevermore.
She is the one, she is
She is the home, She Is.