I can run like the wind, and I can be still as a stone. But, best of all, I can decide which.
All your weight, it falls on me.. it brings me down.
Promises you break you still believe.
Still I would want to be someone who’d answer to me:
Someone who sees like a child, gives like a saint,
feels like an angel — never mind the broken wings,
and speaks like a picture, cries like the rain, shines like a star,
as long as the fire remains.
Excuse me, are you lost? Perhaps you would care to visit the site map