ashes to ashes and dust to dust;
realizing truth as youth, denying proof as movements.
running home from school i catch the latest cartoons,
and ask my mom if i can have another dollar for lunch
or 10 more minutes past my curfew time
so i can see who wins the fight of whose dad can beat up whose.
as i’m pedaling up the street there’s a friend in every stranger i meet —
the new kid on the block; the fastest kid in school;
the coolest kid i ever knew was the one who broke every rule
like staying up late at night, wishing i could be out there.
not knowing what lies out there on the other side
they say that ignorance is bliss and every child
is wise beyond his years, are wasted on the youth.
the taste of freedom never came as it did
when i was a child —
embracing fortune, truth and lie distortion,
truth of life distortion — part of my misfortune.
raised with a spoon made of tin, but never silver.
lies i’m told as i grow old.
years are p-ssing. i feel myself developing.
and they say that ignorance is bliss,
and they say a man can be anything in life if he puts his mind to it.
but my mother died when i was young.
and my father slapped me harder than the bitter taste of reality.
and any lesson from any teacher couldn’t prepare me.
and the shortcomings of my role models, well they told me
that life is only what you can make it,
and that faith is mine for the taking,
and that life will never seem as simple as it did
when i was a kid.