not so high hopes

Sometimes I dream that I am back in the day When I used to watch cartoons and go out to play Craft magic tools made up in my brain And run around following my paper plane

Now I'm standing here, digging nails in my hands Trying not to listen to my mother's commands Rebeling against the modern world falling apart Creating all these silly lines, so called art

Tomorrow I hope I won't be like everyone else Who have never felt emotions so intense Collecting all the wasted hours on the job that they hate The only wish I want is not to experience that fate

And when my bones become so heavy and old I hope my soul won't feel as cold As the frost of life without any meaning Or having ambitions as low as my room's ceiling