And where shall we go, then 
     when all of the options are taken, when 
     all of the dreams are used up in the morning 
     of our discontent 
     And where shall we go then 
     when we refuse to hope 
     (for we have to refuse 
     the eternal hope) to 
     condemn ourselves to 
     the hell of 
     no hope. 
     Shall we turn then, 
     turn the turnstill 
     and get on the bus 
     to hell, 
     we shall lie down then 
     in the morning 
     of our discontent 
     and sleep the sleep again 
     which brings the new dreams 
     for 
     I cannot tell you 
     No 
     I will not tell you 
     of the death of hope 
     I will not tell you 
     of the birth of despair 
     though my hands may shrivel 
     and the sores may ravage me, I 
     will stand when I cannot stand 
     I will sing when I have no voice 
     I will laugh when there is only sorrow in front of me
     and 
     I will cry only tears of joy when all is gone 
     I can only hold this pen and write these words for
     you 
     I can do no more 
     no words can replace the song of just one 
     songbird in the morning of our discontent 
     So 
     I say to you 
     be that songbird