The questions I asked for a half century
Lived in my head, for no one to see.
They trembled inside and tumbled about,
They whispered for years, then turned to a shout,
But we held our silence right down to the last.
Everyone saying, the past is the past.
But the past isn't passed until it is done,
We've carried it forward, we've carried a ton.

What is the choice, what do I do?
Do I run and keep running until I am through?
Do I live with the trembling and churning inside?
Do I put back the walls and cower and hide?
Do I say to myself, it's just no big deal?
Or deny and deny and deny how I feel?
What will you answer, what will you say?
If I just had to pack up, and just go away?

No, it's not that easy, there's no going back,
For the trembling silence is beginning to crack,
It trembles and groans and makes little snaps,
It teeters and tips and it sways and it flaps,
It crumbles   and crackles and falls to its knees,
It begs for our mercy, it's ending it sees,
Until it lies helpless and mute on the ground,
No more to taunt us, its power unbound.

So what is the answer, what do I do?
What will I say... to you...and to you?
I pace and I pace Like a cat in a cage,  
I rip and I roar like a bull on the rage,
Too much on my plate, too much in my head,
Too much to digest, too much to be said.
So what is the answer, what do I do?
I sit and I wait for my strength to renew.