When I was little my mother was always near
I did as I was told no questions asked
Until the age of twelve when everything was clear

I began to quesiton the things I was tasked
Caring less and less if mother was around
Acting reckless keeping my feelings masked

My friends and I would terrorize the town
Giving no regards to others and acting like fools
It was five years before the old me was found

I found relief in music so it became my tool
The stress of my parents was too much to take
I wanted to give up on everything including school

I rarely asked for much and made my own cake
But I was sick and tired of not having freedom
So I signed my life away for some rank

When I graduated I left for a few seasons
The confidence I gained was what I'd needed
Although my absence was for no clear reason

As my eyes open wide my mind becomes heated
Everybody is ignorant whether they agree or not
I have new standards for how I need to be treated

I promise I've been through more I've been through alot
Treat me with resepct and understanding when I speak
Being right sometimes doesnt add value to your thoughts

Thinking a lot means not that I overthink
Listening not to me but others is destructive
I know from experience not from a link

I'm not a child anymore that little boy is rusted
I'm a grown man that has his own views
But I still make mistakes on who should be trusted

If the effort is mainly on one side who has to choose
When nobody wants to make up I have to grown upwards
Because my sidekick Watson surely doenst get the clues

Yet I'm still competing against myself for no rewards
The effort I put in doesnt reciprocate
So I get edgy because I have a goal I'm working towards

Every conversation feels like a new debate
My relations are irrelivent and you don't listen
You aren't honest most often being fake

No being mad you're never wrong in your vision
Of course those rules never apply to me
Tu eres el hefe and thats your mission

The point is that I've matured in ways you wont see
I grow weary of your demands and lack of understanding
and I still find myself wanting to be free

What goes up must come down and I'm landing
I hope I maintain my composure and retain sanity
My last one took that from me without my planning

In the process I was filled with vanity
I pray you're not the same resulting in a tragedy

The historical marker, doubtless wearily press-stamped
By some inmate at Attica or Dannemora,
Refers to the relic as St. Leger’s Tower,
Though those old-timers who have not died off or fled south
Prefer the name “Barry’s Folly”,
As the general in quesiton was reported to have claimed
That it would stand, like Empire itself,
***** and unsullied for a dozen centuries,
Indeed several hundred years beyond as well.
All that lingers now is the main of its foundation,
Topped with no more than an uneven row or two of brick,
Sitting squat and forlorn like some drowsy and unconcerned sentry
Standing guard for the nearby entrance
To an old, long since abandoned cemetery
Where the stones of the war dead and early settlers
Have been washed clean of names, dates, and epitaphs
By the tainted, corrosive rains
Which once rolled in from Gary, Flint and Hamtramck,
And further up the hill, a weathered and peeling billboard
Invites those unwitting travelers who have wandered off the Thruway
To experience the magic of Herkimer Diamonds.