There was one this valley we played in,
where songs of bumblebees, butterfiles, and puff the magic dragon.
Then the spider webs of lies, deciet, and the realization
of being spoon fed awoke us
o yelling in the void
"Wake up, be not like me, but be yourself."
Now the void is meloed with sympony strings
Cries of being spoon fe
and are replaced with test frustration
and dealing with the real world
They say this will change too
that corporate prodject will make me look back and say
"That was me but a year ago."
Do the sounds of time slip form us, oh so quikly?
