Today's weather reminds me how it used to be.
Wonderful, wild, young and carefree.
Little did I care about making money or a job,
little did I know what it was to dress proper or a slob.
I remember running, through the neighbors yards,
chasing, chasing, a flying card.
It flew in the wind, way up high,
into a beautiful and welcoming, open summer sky.
Sometimes I'll close my eyes, to find myself there,
sometimes I go, where I shall not care.

But I snap right back, to where I belong,
because I know that to not ever care, is just so wrong.
Because here there are people who look up to me,
who needs the person, that I need to be.
Not a hero, or a saint, neither angel or savior,
just another friendship, another memory they can savor.

I don't mind, rushing up to arms at the call,
I will tear through armies, mountains, oceans and every single wall,
if that means that my friends are safe, and can safely stand tall.

But once and a while, after the smoke has settled,
instead of bones of my past, and the blood on my hands,
I will go back, and dream, of those distant lands.
I'm drawn and tempted, tempted to go,
to travel nearly far, to only where I only know.

Back the land, the land of my home,
where I may set my mind free, free to roam.

Back there,
back where,
where I may call safe,
I must ready the defenses,
and prepare for strafe.

They shall test the borders,
they shall try to break my will,
but they shall never take the sky,
no matter how artful the skill.

Back there
back where,
where I can call home,

back there
back where,
my heart shall forever roam.