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This old man

Kicks the weeds

As he walks

With tired feet

He Stumbles in the streets

In his eyes I can see

He is only there

Because

He has nowhere else to be

In the wind

His hair; long and unruly

He does not care

He can see

In my dissaproving eyes

That neither do we



But he is wrong

I know he is right



I know he has

Lived a life

And I understand

And I respect

Now that he has

Served his time

He has stopped caring

What is right



What is right?



In my youth

I forsee

In days that lie ahead

I will be

Just like he

Now I understand

Then I will believe



In worlds time

Many years

Pass

In the blink of an eye



And one day...



I will too be

Just

Another old man

Kicking weeds

With tired feet

Walking the streets

With nowhere else

To be

My hair will be

Long and unruly

But I won't care



And when I see tomorrow's youth

I will know

They will too

In blinks of eyes

Be like me

I can't prevent destiny

They say "what will be

will be"



I see

In his eyes

He believes

At his grave

I pray

Theres shall be

Flowers.