....When you're small,
you care nothing at all.
Minutes can seem hours,
you're climbing impossible towers.
Slowly.. like the cigarette burn,
now clocks say it's your turn.
You have run oh so fast,
yet looking ahead it's only the past.
As the tree in summer you stand tall,
yet inside leaves begin to fall.
Your mind constantly scours,
searching youth's squandered powers.
All their advice you did spurn,
you seek it now to avoid the urn.
No turning back you begin to cry,
wondering why am I...
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