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One of these days I'll stop caring.
Then it won't hurt anymore.
One of these days, I'll find the way,
to take that walk out the door.

Now, when I look around me,
I see too many things gone wrong.
Loneliness seems to surround me.
I only find comfort in song.

Still, this old heart can't stop caring,
though much of it's out of my reach.
Something inside me stands, staring,
like a stranger washed up on the beach.
One of these days, it'll fade in a haze.
I'll stop caring, one of these days.

For now, sing on, you old Troubadours.
Sing of the story we know.
The waves are still rolling to shore.
December still has it's snow.

One of these days, we'll discover,
a vision of peace, on the Way.
Troubadours, old friends, and lovers,
we'll all be free, one of these days.

We'll be glad in the joy of our caring,
with all our friends close within reach.
We'll have a free way for sharing,
like children at play on the beach.
We'll emerge from sadness and haze,
joyful and free
- one of these days.

( © 2003 - "Future Folk" Music - Betty J. Curtis )