This is how it was meant to be,
I was meant to go on hoping,
Even though there's really no hope,
In this land or on the sea.
Becoming familiar with an illusion,
Becoming familiar with lapses of joy,
Illusion.
Something is abiding,
something believes unceasing,
In keeping the wolves from the door.
I wonder when you're older,
You'll find there was a disappearance,
Disappearance of the meaning that you had, that you had, that you, oh.
The very inner of my being,
It is infinite trouble,
You'll always be on the outside of it, of it, of it, oh.
Oh, oh, oh.
Ah, ah, oh, oh.
Something is abiding,
something believes unceasing,
In keeping the wolves from the door.
I wonder if you hear thunder like I do, like I do,
If you know living like I do,
Feels the same, if it is as sweet as.
Something is abiding,
something believes unceasing,
In keeping the wolves from the door.