That's still you, under the makeup, behind the eyeshadow,
That's still you, behind the shadow of the tree, tired of the sun,
That's still you, placing the "daily bread" before "god's holy throne,"
That's still you, playing the flute, filled with frivolity but cursing the rain.
That's still you, before the "sacred" alter, picking a ring-a man-made stone.
That's still you, and do you know what? You'll never grow up until you are the real you again...