When we were kids we had ideas and dreams,
Of what we wanted to be.
It boiled down to one thing,
We wanted to be a somebody.
We could go as far as our imagination would let us.
And the stars were just figures in the sky,
That one day we could reach out and touch.
Maybe we just wanted to leave this world a better place,
Than when we met it
Maybe we just wanted to be remembered for something great.
But we grew up.
Dreams faded into the ether of the past.
And we became what we become.
Waitress' and waiters.
Callous palmed factory workers.
Ticket booth operators.
Cleaners, tradesmen and
Bus drivers.
Barmen, bank clerks and
Insurance salemen
People that make the world tick.
When you walk down the street,
You can hear a chorus of unsung hymns.
The girl who just wanted to sing.
But was too afraid to take to the stage.
So her songs remain hers.
The unseen kid.
Who's got a notebook of broken dreams.
But remains alive.
Because it's through the ink that his heart beats.
Through his words that his thoughts breathe.
Or the man who works a job he hates.
Just to hold up his family.
These people are just living their lives.
But these people are somebody to someone
Don't let this be just another poem.
Don't let these words mean nothing.
Their is more in life than being great.
Is it not enough to make one person happy.
Is it not enough to make yourself happy.
Nobody can define you.
The walls might not fall but
You got to try and make them
You can be anything you want to be.
Sing like no one's listening.
Dance like no one's watching.
Shine as bright as you can.
You are a somebody.
You always have been.
And you still have time to be.