We’re kids who have seen too much,
But could only dream of war;
Just children who play the game
And on our sleeves keep score.
We traveled the world in our bottles
With messages tucked in our throats.
And silent we sit, told that if our words slip
They could tip over neighboring boats.
Our bones laced with capsules we’ve earned
From the nights that we’ve stumbled too far,
Each osteon pings with regret
And sends aches running down our lumbar.
We’ve spent so many nights on our knees
Making deals with the moon in the sky;
How come the only answers we’ve received
Are the flowerbeds pressed in our eyes?
We love far too hard and too reckless
and our lovers would call that a gift.
But we crash even steeper and gasp even deeper and
Plank walk right into the mist.
They’ll tell us to think but we’re mindless,
For we wasted our youth behind skulls.
They’ll tell us to stop but we(they)’re hopeless,
For we see more than imminent goals.
Raised under suburban skies
We saw stars and we gave them our pleas.
And we reached for each other as they shot ‘cross the sky
When we saw
The reds blink.
We’d lose our very livelihoods for a chance at half a life.
We’d give our dom’nant hands, if you’d only let us write.
Maybe there is no magic.
Maybe the earth has no core.
And maybe we’re all losing sleep
For a sun that is sure to deplore.
We’re kids who’ve seen too much
But our beds are always there.
And we’re children whose souls are starving
Though our table’s never bare.
Nothing really matters
So it matters all the same
And if nothing truly matters
We’d give all to play the game.