Somethin’ filled up
my heart with nothin’.
Someone told me not to cry.
But now that I’m older,
my heart’s colder,
and I can see that it’s a lie.
Children, wake up.
Hold your mistake up
before they turn the summer into dust.
If the children don’t grow up,
our bodies get bigger but our hearts get torn up.
We’re just a million little gods causin' rain storms,
turnin’ every good thing to rust.
I guess we’ll just have to adjust.
With my lightnin’ bolts a glowin’,
I can see where I am goin’ to be
when the reaper he reaches and touches my hand.
With my lightnin’ bolts a glowin’,
I can see where I am goin’.
With my lightnin’ bolts a glowin’,
I can see where I am go -- goin’!
You better look out below!
TOO LATE... SUMMER IS ALREADY TURNED TO DUST... IT IS NOW FALL... WINTER COMING..
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
What an awesome poetic way of saying just how true life is. As we age we become lame. So lame.
Not all become lame. Leonard Cohen just turned 81 and he aint lame. Jimmy Carter is 90 and he rages. My father is 83 and he aint lame. But then there is Trump. Lame from the very beginning.
Well the older I get. The lamer I become. Sad
Post a Comment