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Every Mans an Old Man

Like the things that he said, that roll through my head. I can turn around and shoot it then fall asleep to it. Wake up and it’s there well shit life’s not fair. Would you like a sample? A poor man’s life, what a perfect example. Because it’s to far to get it when my mind feel so shifted to some poor mans dreams pouring out of old vending machines. It calls itself "I" but no thoughts are inside. Funny how it always works like answers in books. Seems so easy on paper until we try other flavors. Guess we’ll never understand even with his heart in our hand. And when we look at his face he still dreams of that place where his hopes won’t die like every love by his side. Now all that is left inside his once fiery soul is nothing more than regret and some slightly red coal. Slowly burning away like every promise he made. It lingers from when he was a boy soon to burn out like last years toy. All that keeps him hear are whispers in his ear, I’m sure their not real but it’s all he can feel. He thinks he’s okay so we’ll leave him that way. The sad thing is he is you, he is me, its the price we pay to be free.

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