I miss the days of not caring,
I miss those happy nights,
but most of all I miss you
smiling under the starlight.

I believe.
It gives me hope.
And what is hope
If not the string
That pulls you through life?

I don’t have the capacity,
the time or the motivation,
So what am I to do?

I like the comfort of familiarity
and routine, but i also want new,
So what am I to do?

Excuses, excuses, excuses
They materialise like bruises
They come and go
Like flakes of snow

Tossing , turning in my sleep
And still the answer to my question
Has yet to emerge from the deep,
Maybe it’s because it’s not truly what I seek.

What I seek are in fact
Excuses, excuses, and more excuses
So what am I to do?

We don’t get to be young,
We need to grow old,
We need to make choices
We need to go places,
and make sacrifices.

Life is not easy or constant,
Life is a path and not a contest,
Comparing yourself to everyone else
Is simple to do but bad for your health.

We don’t get to have fun,
We need to come undone,
We need to stop smiling, laughing and crying.

Life is a lie with one sole purpose,
Which has yet to rise to the surface
“You don’t get to be young,
you need to grow old”
This is what my mom believes,
But frankly this idea is meant to deceive.

If we don’t live now,
We could just say “ciao” to all our specialties,
And get drowned in legacies,
Without finding any remedies to our promised infancies.