When the day is long, and the pressure is unbearable, and I
can't take it no more, what holds me together?
Conviction.
And when even that fails, For the pressure is unyielding and
strong, and the nights also long, and no haven to be found
in thinking?
Hope.
And when that too does fall, And the tunnel twists, and now
there's no light, not in front, and not from the back?
For love is remote, and fate tends to gloat?
External sources.
But are these but huts from a storm, and logs in the ocean,
grabbing straw.
Inertia?
And when the eternal friction wears that off?
And I'm stranded in a sea, with no land in sight, and no
hope in mind.
Conviction...