Brought up as a cynic I want to believe;

I’ve not learned emotion, don’t know how to grieve.

Knowing deep down that there is more to see;

can’t see the chains but I long to be free.

Small visions of life at times seen through the haze

I long for the truth of long bygone days.

I think that I saw it back there in my youth;

the wisdom of ages – the ultimate truth.

Perhaps an illusion is all that I saw,

but if it was illusion I’m left wanting more.

So travel I must in the land of my mind

to search hidden ways for what I can find.