| In my youth, I felt the earth move underneath my feet
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| I knew my place and kept time
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| Blissfully out of harms reach
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| But time takes its toll and makes fools of the beggars
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| Hardens all hearts with desired endeavors
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| Shell games, all routine in repose
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| I grew tired of hiding in this shelter I built
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| Of small empty promises and traces of silt
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| I built it all up for so long
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| It was only a matter of when I’d find out I was wrong
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| And learn to let go
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| I was told I could be anything I wanted to be
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| But conflicting opinions have led me to see
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| I was born to be everything you’ve seen in your dreams
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| A catalyst of providence, a glitch in the seams
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| It’s not right, but it’s what you need
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| Now my past is not the residence I choose to reside
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| And my future’s just a context, ephemeral, implied
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| It’s not you. |
| It’s not me
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| It’s now and everything in between
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| And that’s why I harbored the will to keep moving my feet
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| That’s why these calloused lungs are the only way
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| I know how to speak
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| So where are you now?
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| And where were you when you were me?
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| Have I proven anything? |
| Or traveled full circle again?
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| Because I know how much I’ve grown
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| And the world is not a bitter place
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| Despite what you’ve shown
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| I will become everything that you said I could not
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| And be there for everyone that you forgot
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| I will lead the way back home |