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What if you reached the age of reason |
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Only to find there was no reprieve |
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Would you still be a man for all seasons? |
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Or would you just have to leave |
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We measure our days out |
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In steps of uncertainty |
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Not turning to see how we've come |
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And peer down the highway |
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From here to eternity |
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And reach out for love on the run |
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While the man for all seasons |
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Is lost behind the sun |
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Henry Plantagenent still looks for someone |
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To bring good news in his hour of doubt |
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While Thomas More waits in the Tower of London |
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Watching the sands running out |
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And measures the hours out |
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From here to oblivion |
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In actions that can't be undone |
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A sailor through the darkness |
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He scans the meridian |
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And caught by the first rays of dawn |
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The man for all seasons |
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Is lost beneath the storm |
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And I should know by now |
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I should know by now |
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I hear them call it out all around |
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Oh, they go |
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There's nothing to believe in |
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Hear them |
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Just daydreams, deceiving |
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They'll just let you down |
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So what if you reached the age of reason |
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Only to find there was no reprieve |
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Would you still be a man for all seasons? |
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Or would you just disbelieve? |
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We measure our gains out in luck and coincidence |
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Lanterns to turn back in the night |
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And put our defeats down to chance or experience |
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And try once again for the light |
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Some wait for the waters of fortune to cover them |
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Some just see the tides of ill chance rushing over them |
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Some call on Jehovah |
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Some cry out to Allah |
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Some wait for the boats that still row to Valhallah |
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Well, you try to accept what the fades are unfolding |
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While some say they're sure where the shame should be falling |
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You look round for maybe a chance of forestalling |
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But too soon it's over and done |
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And the man for all seasons |
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Is lost behind the sun |
