when i was a young man the skies were so clear, the sun always shone and we walked without fear all of the buildings were new and we were the chosen few. youth was the engine of change, we were told, to work with your hands was good for your soul. they pitched us their latest great scheme and we a11 bought into the dream.
then one day i looked out my window. i knew then nothing would hold me and i had to leave the young man that used to be me.
the years brought surprises, fortune and fame. a house on the hill and a change in my name. dreaming of what i might find i left all my old clothes behind.
then one day i looked in my mirror and i saw someone that scared me; a person so blinded by greed he couldn't see. and i can't believe that young man used to be me.
now i respond to a different command, i no longer wipe the dirt from my hands. all of the buildings are gone and we dance to a different drum. the beggars still beg at the end of our stree tbut now when we pass our eyes fail to meet. where do the poor people go? nobody wants to know.
but one day i'll look out my window and i'll say to hell with your heaven and i will return to the way my life used to be and i will retrieve the young man that used to be me.