Childish
By Thayer Tymon
How childish sounds it my own voice to my own ears.
What happened to the glory of it all?
The ruler and the peasants, champion, and the beaten.
Here I now stand bowing to the rule while they say I’m sick. In ways they can’t fix.
Call my ill, ill of the mind and I laugh like a lunatic. Supposedly that’s part of the problem.
When I walked tall the world was small.
In the end arrogance held my hand when I fell asleep and I would wake to the composure of happiness but it turned to be a trick of the mind.
Now when the speakers blare I remember the world before.
I was so loud and the world was so quiet I though it of the fact that it listened to me but in fact there was just no one on the other side to respond.
How did I keep going forward?
I lost the answer to the question I once had. Now It’s back again and the answer is nowhere to be found.
I miss the place of the mind and sleep where my imagination wept and now I listen to the music that is silent for I hear it now when the Calvary play it.
How childish sounds it my own voice to my own ears.
What happened to the glory of it all?
The ruler and the peasants, champion, and the beaten.
Here I now stand bowing to the rule while they say I’m sick. In ways they can’t fix.
Call my ill, ill of the mind and I laugh like a lunatic. Supposedly that’s part of the problem.
When I walked tall the world was small.
In the end arrogance held my hand when I fell asleep and I would wake to the composure of happiness but it turned to be a trick of the mind.
Now when the speakers blare I remember the world before.
I was so loud and the world was so quiet I though it of the fact that it listened to me but in fact there was just no one on the other side to respond.
How did I keep going forward?
I lost the answer to the question I once had. Now It’s back again and the answer is nowhere to be found.
I miss the place of the mind and sleep where my imagination wept and now I listen to the music that is silent for I hear it now when the Calvary play it.