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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I’m not supposed to see nothing else for me, than what has been handed down. The family farm with the morning alarm, near a derelict rundown town. To be working there for the annual fair, that comes ‘round once a year - Curse what I’ve done in the years to come, and why I never got out of here. Farm boy - why don’t you kneel, and rub your fingers through the ground. Doesn’t make sense leaning on a fence, and just watching the world go by, when I have two feet to walk me off the street, where I can start a new life, chasing the dreams where I’ve never been, after making that firm decision - I have to steer myself away from here, if I’m to reach my vision. Farm boy - do you feel; there’s a better world to be found. What I want to be keeps hanging over me, like clouds filling with depression. I’m against the wall that would have to fall, if I use my own discretion. Trouble starts when I break the hearts, of generations come before, when I take the stand and walk off the land, never working here no more. Farm boy - you’re a mystery; walking away from the dynasty, turning your back on your family. Farm boy - living in the city. Farm boy - why don’t you kneel, and rub your fingers through the ground. Farm boy - or do you feel, that there’s some better land to be found. Farm boy.
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