If All The Beauty Would Ever Last, If Time Would Halt And Never Be Past,
If All The Ugliness Would Forever Hide, Then On The Journey, With Thou, I Would Ride.
Time Drives The Beauty From A Face. It Sees No Meaning, Nor Any Grace.
The Beauty, The Face, Soon To Be Forgotten, All Be Wanton, All Be Rotten.
The Beauty Of A Person Is Soon To Fade, Like A Setting Sun, A Night Time Shade.
Eyes Eventually Lose Its Shine. The Beauty Of It, The Sun Would Out Shine.
The Hair Will Fall And Turn To Gray. No One Can Outrun The Upcoming Day.
Unlike A Star That Forever Twinkles, The Beauty On The Face Is Soon To Wrinkle.
If Time Would Stop As It Sailed, If The Unpleasantness Of The Aging Can Be Veiled,
If The Inevitable To Come Can Be Set Aside, Then On The Journey, With Thou, I Would Ride.