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.