BUT wherefore do not you a mightier way
Make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time?
And fortify yourself in your decay
With means more blessèd than my barren rime?
Now stand you on the top of happy hours,
And many maiden gardens, yet unset,
With virtuous wish would bear your living flowers,
Much liker than your painted counterfeit:
So should the lines of life that life repair
Which this time's pencil or my pupil pen,
Neither in inward worth nor outward fair
Can make you live yourself in eyes of men.
To give away yourself keeps yourself still,
And you must live, drawn by your own sweet skill.
But why not use a more ferocious method
to resist this bloody devil-time?
No need for weapons more auspicious than my dead pen,
To defend against your decay and strengthen yourself?
You now stand at the pinnacle of the golden hour,
Many girls’ gardens have not yet been sown,
Chastely longing for your splendid heroes,
Your true face is cooler than your portrait:
Only the thread of life can redraw life;
The paintbrush of time, or my brush Weak management,
no matter inner beauty or appearance,
cannot make you come alive in front of people.
Give yourself and still keep yourself,
And you have to live by your own wonderful pen.
I was her she was me
We were one we were free
And if there's somebody calling me on If there's somebody calling me on
She's the one She's the one It must be her
We were young we were wrong We were young we were wrong
We were fine all along
If there's somebody calling me on
She's the one She's the one
When you get to where you wanna go
And you know the things you wanna know
You're smiling
When you said what you wanna say You say what you have to say
And you know the way you wanna play
You'll be so high you'll be flying Flying
Though the sea will be strong despite the difficulties
I know we'll carry on I know I will continue to work hard
Cos if there's somebody calling me on
She's the one She's the one
If there's somebody calling me on
She's the one That's the one