Headstones

I've been running all my life
Like a chicken heading for the knife
Inside the farmer's pen
Most of me was left behind
In the school where I once learned to write
With my father's pen.

Mighty was the sword I thrust
Until the words betrayed my trust
And secrets gave away
I was young and juvenile
Inferno hot and volatile
I had so much to say.

And the children in the park are playing
Suspiciously they look to me
Like headstones in a graveyard swaying.

Sometimes it is hard to see
That all we have is what we need
And I'm always wanting more
When you're lost with no one else
It doesn't help to find yourself
It helps to find the door.

And the children in the graveyard are playing
And the headstones are silently waiting.

History is littered with
Has-beens who have never lived
Do not look away
This could be your destiny
Unless you learn that you are free
And leave behind the chains.

And the children in the graves are playing
And the headstones are the only thing staying.