plot the points you’ll use to find
the place you want to be
draw the map and draw the line
from point A to point B
you’re an architect, your buildings scrape
the skyline of your dreams
looking down from far away
proves them lower than they seem
but pack your bag of memories
and old things you once loved
and hold them tight so they’ll survive
the journey to above
you are a kite, just moving where
the light breeze takes you to
never stronger than you never were
as paper dreams guide you through

to what degree is wrong
if it’s right in another’s eyes?
how selfish must you be before
it doesn’t take you by surprise?
and should you still pursue the wind
if you know you should not follow?
or leave someone in helplessness
if you will not care tomorrow?

left or right?
up or down?
front or back?
smile or frown?
tell me what to do - please, I implore you
flip up the coin - let Lincoln choose it for you
start to end?
end to start?
listen to my head?
or listen to my heart?

a quarter cup of friendship
yields half a cup of smiles
a bakers’ dozen leaves you set for life
just a dash of experience
mixed with your own style
leaves this recipe with no wrong, and no right

tambourines and yellow pages
that’s all that I want to be
old six strings and lit up stages
are all that I want to see
a pencil and a photograph
with them, I will be free
to take a brush and paint the path
towards the life I wish to lead