More than ever it seems true to say Things won't always be this way The ways we've thought to get this far Are as outdated as we are
But I won't change it and neither will you When what seemed the appropriate are now the wrong things to do If in every act there's something good I haven't done all the good things I could
And more than ever I know that's not true Are there any good thing left to do? Are there any right ways left to be? That's not a question best left to me
'Cause I won't say anything I should decide If intentions aren't possible to hide
