He lost faith on a rainy Monday
When the storm gathered at the door
It would take him a month of Sundays
To get back what he had before
Knocked down, knocked out
Not sure what life’s about
All his hopes are reduced to nothing
All his future insecure

The road to the left looks dark and daunting
The road to the right is an endless hill
The road in the middle still scares him a little
But he doesn’t have a choice of standing still

He cried up to the heavens
“This wasn’t my design
There must have been an error
There must have been some grave mistake”
And struggling every second
was pointless and sublime
Wherein he found his character
Wherein he found he couldn’t break

The cold breeze on a rainy Monday
Slumped down with his head in his hands
Never felt so crushed or humbled
Overwhelmed by life’s demands
No hope, no plan
Right back where he began
Could have sworn that the sky was falling
Couldn’t hold it in his hands

The first little step was dark and daunting
The second after that was harder still
He knew he was slowing but he kept on going
‘Cause the flavor of defeat is the bitterest pill

He cried up to the heavens
“This wasn’t my design
There must have been an error
There must have been some grave mistake”
And struggling every second
was pointless and sublime
Wherein he found his character
Wherein he found he couldn’t break

And the wind blows
And the wind blows

Lost in translation
From shire to town to nation
Fulfilling the ancient
As time rewards the patient

Now it’s time for you to forget
Your distant glory
Now it’s time for you to fulfill
Another story

Maybe a painter
A guide, a clerk, a maker
Or maybe a writer
A king, a star, a fighter

Now it’s time for you to forget
Your distant glory
Now it’s time for you to fulfill
Another story
And it’s not about the place you go
It’s what you’re learning
And it’s all about the way you grow
Along the journey

The road to the left looks dark and daunting
The road to the right is an endless hill
The road in the middle still scares him a little
But he doesn’t have a choice of standing still

He cried up to the heavens
“This wasn’t my design
There must have been an error
There must have been some grave mistake”
And struggling every second
was pointless and sublime
Wherein he found his character
Wherein he found he couldn’t break

Rounded down
Built back up
Polished, crowned
Filled with love

And the wind blows
And the wind blows