When I was seventeen, a little less old and a little less wise
My father he told me to take this solemn advise:
He said, “Son, there will come a
When all the paths you thought you’d take are empty,
All dead ends.
“You’ll find you a girl, and settle down somewhere,
And grow old with the dying of the sun.
You’ll raise a sweet family, on a hilltop or valley,
Until all your days are done.
But don’t you forget, when your legs grow weak and weary,
And the pathway you trod reach their end,
You’ll find there contentment, in the fading of the light,
That all your troubles,
Were nothing more than journeys in the night.
Life will beat you down, but you gotta stand up
Life will give you joys, but you gotta move on
You’ll fall to the lowest lows,
And reach the highest heights,
But they were nothing more than journeys in the night.”