somewhere where
the wild ones go
I will find my way
still a child at heart
with so many helter-skelter dreams
aspirations full of childish delight
running away to the mountains
to an island, to the sky
I know not what I
wish to be
that fateful day that I grow up
nor if I want that day to come
I wish to stay a child
until I have to look mortality in the face
that may be long enough for me
to play out each and every dream |