Imagine the Tears

Every dull early morning I turn on the street that goes up the hill,
I notice the dead end street sign and that’s just the way I feel,
As a little boy I thought maybe I’ll be an astronaut but I never got off the
ground,
I go to work in this dark factory everyday; king of the flightless I am crowned.
If that little boy could have seen thru the fog of the years,
Imagine the tears.
My angst and rage has mellowed and become this kind of apathetic grind,
All those future plans are now just dusty dreams in a dim corner of my mind,
I used to be the world’s ambition and the soul and logic of redemption’s heart,
But now the man this boy was going to be never was; the end is a mythical place
from the start.
And if that little boy could have known about the random flux of the years,
Imagine the tears.
Nostalgia and selective memory go a long way to making the good old days good,
The past has a way of living up to what the future never could,
Balancing the joy of existence with the pettiness of existing is the life of a
man,
And it’s a wonderful thing that this is something the
child never has to try and understand.
Cause if that little boy would have ever felt,
The horrifying; death-divining; grinding of the gears,
Imagine the tears.