Times like these make you think,
Turn my mind into an ice rink.
So i look back,
And see what i lost.

I remember days,
Days when i wasnt afriad.
Not afriad to climb the tree,
Not afriad to feel real free.
Dont you remember those ways,
Ways to make the tripple braid.

Pretending I was a bird,
Up high,
Way up in the sky.
Now when i try,
All i know and feel is fear.

Fear rules my days,
I cant even step out the door,
Im afraid of a dirty floor.
Its sad to live these ways.

But way back then,
I had the gift of imagination.
But where has that been,
It must have been destroyed in the infestation.

Now my head is full,
Full to top,
It's a pretty full cup.
Full of fear,
And being afriad.
I need those ole days,
I need those ole ways,
To last the end of my life...

 
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