The Failing Song
Patricia Arguelles, Matt Elliott
As youths we used to talk at night
Of the joys that life was going to bring our way
And the failures of our forebears
Were as clear to us as the cold light of day
But now those days are dead & gone
And the future that we had is now the past
And it's cobwebs that we cling to
Our aspirations turned to ashes in our hands