there was a little boy,
who beleived that every dream could come true.
who looked at the world through rose tinted glasses,
and saw clouds made of cotton candy and gumdrops.
For whom there was no evil in the world,
for whom it all was a very simple place.
Who knew no struggle,
who knew no pain,
who only felt joy and the tingling of rain.
Who danced and pranced about with every paycheck,
forgetting that in life, there's always a debt.
Add the debt of joyful times,
the debt of carefree moments,
the debt of procrastination,
the debt that must be paid.
Paid in kind? Has life ever heard such a word?
For every high, there must come a fall.
And a fall my dear friends, when early on is fairly less painful,
than one in which, you scale the peak and tumble on down.
There is no Jack, there is no Jill,
there is oft just a sleeping pill,
to put you torrid mind at rest,
to take you away from the horrid place.
Life, they say, is a rat's race...
and dear friend, the rat you finally have become.