Poets

I have stood and questioned
Love without a reason
I have doubted the absent heart
(And) cursed the turning of the seasons
Now I still stand here
No more wise but just as proud
Are we the fallen generation
Or just another noisy crowd

When the cheering all subsides
Will I age with grace
A home with wife and child
Bitter sentiments replace
(And) Will they still play the songs
(That were) the soundtrack of my youth
Will there still be all these questions
Will I have something left to prove

  Will we still be the poets
  When time has made us old
  Will we be fired by our anger
  As that evening light grows cold
  Will we laugh
  Will we cry
  Will we fear the dark of night
  (whispered) Tell me
  Will that be when we die

I am tired of all this screaming
Savage words without a cause
It is time to lower arms
I don't know what we're fighting for

(Now) I am who I hoped to be
But the world spun as I slept
I'm not ashamed of these mistakes
Let me confess and then forget

  Will we still be the poets
  When time has made us old
  Will we be fired by our anger
  As that evening light grows cold
  Will we laugh
  Will we cry
  Will we fear the dark of night
  (Oh) Tell me
  Will that be when we die

    I will be patient
    I will take it slow
    (Yeah I know) I might screw up
    I just don't know

A lifetime at my disposal
In the distance a conclusion
Where I will quietly stand
And reveal the cold illusions
When I have nothing left to lose
No vow to toe the line
If I can make my own decisions
I will cut loose one more time

  Who will be the poets
  When we have all passed on
  Who will be fired by their anger
  When evening light grows cold
  Who will laugh
  Who will cry
  Who will stand upon our shoulders
  And try to touch the sky

© David Gilliver 1997


Feedback welcomed: david@lovetown.net

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