There a man upon a beach running to what's smiles and true
while she holds in her hand a grain of sand that's bleeding
the wind just blows as if to show that thoughts can be healing
Black as jet sliding by his side never to know all an end
but we who stand with words that make all that's shaped
must not pretend to the end that decisions some other will take
How his women stood mighty and lightly spoke as thunder
tomorrow is no joke for all to feel it upon paper and skin
then clasping her tightly to his chest and whispers upon her head
Darling there are no happy endings, but there is The Now
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