It is not pretty 

But it is true. 

 

When each moment of your life 

Holds the depth of a thimble  

And all that is left for you to do 

Is stumble through the fog 

You still have to get up and do it. 

The only way out is through.  

 

When the ice just barely melts 

In time for the new snowfall to cover the ground 

Where once it lay 

You still have to get up and shovel 

Put down salt and gravel 

The only way out is through.  

 

It is systematically true 

That bones that break grow back stronger. 

The weakened leg you cannot stand on 

Will carry you again in six months.  

Although it will always hurt when it rains. 

The only way out is through.  

 

It is hard to know which has changed more 

In your absence. 

You or everything else? 

But when you come back you must readjust. 

Have patience. We waited all that time for you.  

The only way out is through.  

 

You go great lengths to avoid 

Being seen or being heard. To sneak past the wall. 

But there is no over.  

There is no under. 

And there is no going around. 

The only way out is through.  

 

The urban myth that lightning never strikes  

The same place twice 

Makes you feel like a lightning rod.  

The truth is you are not the only one.  

It is not easy to weather the storm, but 

The only way out is through. 

 

When the flood waters drain off 

And the river’s hunger is satisfied  

The work begins.  

Pick up the pieces. Clear away the debris. 

Raise the house.  

The only way out is through.  

 

And when the ashes finish smoldering 

All you can do is sift through the rubble. 

Run your hands over the small metal object. 

Brush away the grey dirt.  

You will rebuild better and stronger. 

The only way out is though. 

 

It is not pretty 

But it is true. 

The only way out 

Is through.