As often as I’ve lost the time
Between the times forgotten
It seems that though I’ve lost the time
It turns out Johnny Rotten
Has long since tried to find his mind
Whether times are rough or gay
And although the times have lost their mind
It turned out just this way:
I hereby declare the wound
That opened but in spite
That I was trying hard to find
And just as well be Knights
Whose armor has been lost at sea
As if the time begotten
Had left its soul at circumstance
And somehow just as rotten…
I wish the truth could now be told
As sometimes if it’s open
The riddle now is but at hand
And to me it’s trying to be coping…
The best of times, the worst of times
Does now its owner prompt
To see if what’s in store for me
Would somehow now be comp’d
And inasmuch as time forgot
To be the best of both,
If you and I are not the same
But just like any rose,
As inasmuch as timely love
Was but to make us smile,
I swear the truth could rise above…
You see, these are the times at hand
Whose ever proud soul sings
As if pretense they could find
That we’re the best of things…
I leave you with a mellow song
To charm the Great God’s Will
In hopes that looking for the truth
Could help stronger still…

                -Rand