Do you remember those days ? Those carefree displays ? When time held no weight, as we ran through the fields in a daze With three little figures, inventing film-worthy scenes We needed nothing at all, just a handful of friends in between And a bike to ride through the summer when it knocked at our door
And when they would ask me, “What will you be when you’re grown?” I pictured an astronaut, or a lawyer Declaring with splendor, “Objection, Your Honor,” or something alike What a beautiful age, when yet, we were not aware That the sand of existence was already slipping away
We meet again, nine years gone past At the age of breaking free—where we think we know fast Though our story had barely a chapter of note to its core We spent time bending truth, leaning back at the bar evermore Trading bikes for escapes that were hollow at heart
But notice, it wasn’t just that We had to face facts, trim our ambitions down flat Shift direction toward paths that made more “sense” in the end Looking back now, I tell myself, we would bend Into the drunken embrace of irony’s grip The kind that traps you inside a damn film of a script
And still, we turn pages in the great book of all We raised up the stakes, now speak of dull things—taxes and all At all cost, I needed a mortgage, even with someone I’d barely revere So far were my childhood dreams, when I’d gaze at the clouds crystal-clear And between them would glide the hero I’d made in my mind
Oh, and by the way—you’ve got the house now You should gently start thinking of children somehow It’s just that… I must admit I’m thinking to flee But come on, what nonsense are you telling me? You won’t leave all this for your obscure way of speech
And now, it must plainly be said That the ink all this time has not ceased where it bled I stopped reading lines others whispered to me—chose to write A brand-new story, one that finally feels right Full of crossings-out, sketches drawn in the side Yet the finest of all, in its unruly stride
It’s strange how they call you insane when you choose To stop living like everyone else, to refuse I realized the man that I am won’t live “tomorrow” the same Not fate—just a lost soul tossing stones in a pond all the same Just to watch the ripples they form—yes, that is my flaw