I’ve been acquainted with the night. And, I have suffered through its rain. Have outwalked furthest city light, and, somehow, made it back again. I have looked down saddest city lane, passed the watchman on his beat. I drop my eyes, can’t explain, the gravity of my defeat. I stand still—and until—you warm my bones from this chill. Cold, and growing old. Too weak to hold, as life unfolds. Acquainted with the night… oh, the night. Acquainted with the night. Oh… I must not be crying loud enough? Wait, what’s that? Far away, can you hear it now? The things they say, the life THEY must plow. Far away… my perspective gain. The things they say, and their real pain. Oh… I need to wake up. Yeah… it turns out, compared to so many, I’ve got a full cup. So, I, I stand still—and until—you warm my bones from this chill. Cold, and growing old, too weak to hold, as life unfolds. Now, I’ll get by. It took hearing THEM cry, for me to wake up from this… my own lie. Yeah, I’ll get by, and I won’t rely on the self pity I supply. And, so, I’ll listen more, complain less, listen more, complain less, listen more, complain less, listen more, complain less, listen more, complain less. Listen more! Lyrical inspiration from Robert Frost's "Acquainted with the Night"