There isn't a train I wouldn't take, no matter where it's going.
It's not true that life is one damn thing after another; it is one damn thing over and over.
... but the rain Is full of ghosts tonight
I dread no more the first white in my hair, Or even age itself, the easy shoe, The cane, the wrinkled hands, the special chair: Time, doing this to me, may alter too My anguish, into something I can bear
And reaching up my hand to try, I screamed to feel it touch the sky.
Life must go on, Though good men die.