Perhaps I am bound to be restless, always yearning, never satisfied. Perhaps I am aching for nothing that words can ever defy. Was I happy in those moments, or have I made it seem that way? Was I back there tomorrow, could feel as lacking as today? But you and your golden hour, and you and your sweetest song, and you with your tender offerings, how could I ever do you wrong? I sit on rest that keeps me marching, this foolish hope it can be found. Something so true and lasting, could it land me on the ground? Still I like my world boundless, it never ceases to entice. It's the hunger in my bones, it's the new day in my eyes. And you and your darkened hour, and me and my broken song, here you come with your tender offerings, how could I ever do you wrong? And me and my doubting hour, and you and your soothing song, and you with your calming mercy, and you when you can't be strong, here you come with your tender offerings, how could I ever do you wrong? How could I ever do you wrong? Oh, could I ever do you wrong? www.mooji.org