| Too many hangars in the closet | |
| A clutter of confusion | |
| Too little rectitude to holda moral absolute | |
| Too much distinction to relate to them | |
| Irresolutions we contemplate with no end | |
| In this world of give and take | |
| And what we refer to as maturityfrom emotional need to technologyhas you, a cultured seed of your society,lacking ability to feel clemency | |
| I'm surprized we stillbleed into the abyss of despairthat's hiding the child | |
| Compassion you would not dareadmit to have experienced | |
| Do you regret looking back? | |
| A penitent confessing his sins | |
| The child inside of me recalls a time of purity,an outlook of release | |
| You remember | |
| Confident that you were able | |
| A future laid out on your table | |
| Running through memoriesa child is free | |
| The world restored you see | |
| I seeThe child inside of me |
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