| Crimson flames tied through my ears
|
| Rolling high and mighty traps
|
| Pounced with fire on flaming roads
|
| Using ideas as my maps
|
| We’ll meet on edges, soon, said I
|
| Proud 'neath heated brow
|
| Ah, but I was so much older then
|
| I’m younger than that now
|
| Half-wracked prejudice leaped forth
|
| Rip down all hate, I screamed
|
| Lies that life is black and white
|
| Spoke from my skull. |
| I dreamed
|
| Romantic facts of musketeers
|
| Foundationed deep, somehow
|
| Ah, but I was so much older then
|
| I’m younger than that now
|
| In a soldier’s stance, I aimed my hand
|
| At the mongrel dogs who teach
|
| Fearing not that I’d become my enemy
|
| In the instant that I preach
|
| My pathway led by confusion boats
|
| Mutiny from stern to bow
|
| Ah, but I was so much older then
|
| I’m younger than that now
|
| Yes, my guard stood hard when abstract threats
|
| Too noble to neglect
|
| Deceived me into thinking
|
| I had something to protect
|
| Good and bad, I define these terms
|
| Quite clear, no doubt, somehow
|
| Ah, but I was so much older then
|
| I’m younger than that now |