What could it be, the reason for longing
For the former days of a fading past?
Relics, treasures, fuel hopes of prolonging
A dying memory of times that no more last
What was and what is, is what is no more
Coming and going, coming and going
Until there remains but nothing at all
Away like chaff in a cold wind blowing
Though hope should comfort the ultimate dread
Yet seemingly does little to shield the heart
From unknown tears, unexpectedly shed
For things ephemeral that must soon depart
How weary it is not to turn and face
Though the bygone so strongly holds our gaze
Yet all that is does no more than preface
An inexorable coming of better days