The night was young, and the quiet night— the darkest night in far-flung bright. I traced the path on the steed of night; I stood my ground and still ask why. When I was young, I walked too slow, and the sun was gray. I gave what was wrong to be what was safe. The fire is gone, the dark was calm; I was fine, and I was wrong. The time has gone, and for the tome, I was young. I felt the same, an heart of pain, and I was wrong. The night was young; I wasn't in the fall. I was never wrong, but I wasn't for. I felt the stars remain, I felt the fire burn, I felt the silence grow, and I was different, not the same. When I was young, I felt the pain, but love came out and I was afraid. I felt the sun and felt the pain, and I was young. I couldn't be your friend, I couldn't hold you back, I couldn't see your face, but there's a storm that was in place. When I was young, I felt the call, but you were gone— that was too cold. When I was young, I felt the cold. I tried to speak your name, I tried to feel the fire that was the pain. But you were gone, and I was young. I felt the pain that was my heart, and it was my pain, and I was young.
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