Am slowly fulfilling my dreams
Step by step I'm crossing my list
Some of them I skipped, I can't do them yet
Well BLIMEY! Now am eighteen.
The golden age of youth, the sceptre of tyranny
The “butter" that joins the “bread" of adolescence and manhood
I stand on a hill with a torch, on the flames its written- I'M FREE
I'm expected to go down that hill with my torch still flaming.
As I waltz down the hill I see road signs
Some saying STOP! some saying TURN BACK NOW!
I glanced at my torch, its still burning red
Then I said to myself,“damn the signs, I'm ready for this."
Up on the hill I was deceived by the clouds floating below me
These clouds concealed the base of the hill and the path leading to it
It concealed the wind of responsibility and the storm of obligations
Am still waltzing and ignoring the road signs, can someone please tell me?