what about the summer where we were kings?
and all those other cliche things?
what if my perfect summer never comes?
I'll just be trapped in the unending doldrums
trapped at minmum wage
inside my labororious cage
free time set aside to recover
no time for a summer lover
or to have a blast
why does youth leave so fast?
the working world ate me alive at sociey's behest
and I languish in anguish as it slowly digests
I'll watch as the others run out to play
as I stay inside cursing the day
I need to break the mold
put the working world's agenda on hold
I'll put in hours being me
and then I'll decide what I want to be