The smile of the old person
    from that of the young does widely differ
    it hides an element of sadness
    which words can't properly utter-

    youth is too proud and too sure
    and knows not yet what it is to suffer
    the Via Dolorosa it hasn't experienced
    it has miles upon miles wisdom to discover

I walk a level wire, and I take each step with care.
To the right a sea of rage, and left an ocean of despair.
If I fail to keep my balance I may never step again.
If I stumble, if I falter, then the fall may never end.

I keep a level head by pretending nothing’s there.
I focus on the moment, never guessing how I’ll fare.
If I’m fractured, torn and broken I may have no strength to mend.
So I walk the wire slowly. When I can’t smile I’ll pretend.

Though each step sinks deeply into flesh I cannot stop advancing.
Though some resolve may harden fast, every single time it’s glancing.
And when I watch the distance it seems the journey has no end.
So I walk the wire carefully. I hold my breath, then step again.