My notebook is running out of pages
It’s wrinkled, torn, in its final stages
I wish I’d been more thoughtful
I wish I’d been more careful
With what messy, scribbled words
I’ve written down over the ages
But I’ve written what was present in my mind at the time
And to do anything else would be something of a crime
I’ve pushed aside more “important” things
To run my pen down the metal rings
That bind the sheets of paper as I try to find the phrase
To describe my thoughts in such a way that someday will amaze
High school students as they sit in lamplight in their friendly cage
In their hands they’ll hold my soul on a freshly printed page
That is just the starting stage of a bright and brand new age