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I can recall the warm youth of a summer day, yeah: |
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The sweetest lemonade, the darkest game arcade, |
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And Billy had a yearning in the corner of his mind. |
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It moved him secretly. It moved him powerfully. |
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But prescience was lacking and the present was not all |
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And his aptitudes were carelessly wasted. |
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And challenging life with the abandon of a fool, |
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He squandered the hours of his day. |
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Then darkness and disorder slapped him sharply in the face, yeah. |
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It hit him like a friend, struck something deep within. |
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He couldn't break the chain of slow decay that seemed to drag him |
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Just like a fatal tie toward the other side. |
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And Billy was a lunatic, just barking at the moon, |
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And his brain was totally wasted. |
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He then exchanged his friends for a needle and a spoon |
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And he threw his future away. |
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Bolt the door and throw away the key. |
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Your dim reflection is all that you can see. |
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So where is the justice when no one is at fault |
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And a human life is tragically wasted? |
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How fragile is the flame that burns within us all |
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To light each passing day? |
