I watch the birds fly by
Thinking of where they’ll go
My naive mind in the clouds not worrying a bit
I still question though
What is it that this boy sees

Across from me he thinks
Unknowing his life and what he’s got to come.
His fingers pretending to run on string
Going to a place more than south
I can hear him sing a tune that’s familiar to my ear

Boy do I wish to be him
And never know of a dark time
Hopefully he doesn’t take a glimpse

Too bad we grew up with these same thinkings...