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Words - Jun 29, 2004 - Printable Version
- Thoughts On The Way Home
by Mark Faulk
I’m a product of the sixties And that should be an advantage
Instead it’s just a liability
And sex, drugs, and rock and roll
Give way to aids, addiction, and I don’t know
And mind expansion becomes intervention
And crystal clear vision
Is now middle-aged indecision
Middle aged, middle class,
Middle America
Standing in the middle of the road
Trying to decide which way to go
Should I choose the path of
Self-righteous indignation
Or settle for the sedative
Of the TV Nation
My country tis’ of thee
Sweet land of liberty
Don’t mean a thing to me
And when I look in the mirror
Ultimately
What will I see
Staring back at me
Will I be everything that I despised
Railed against, raged against
Exposed as a lie
Or will I grow old gracefully
Empassioned and wise
Everything changes except for the inside
And as I pass the baton
To another lost generation
In a race I didn’t run
Too scared to even hear the starting gun
And all the dreams that we shared
Were ended by just three bullets to the brain
And when heroes become martyrs
It’s just not the same
All that’s left is silence
When voices are what we need
I have a dream, the dream is over
I just believe in me
And sometimes it’s hard
To look my children in the eye
And say, at least I tried
Well, I did, didn’t I ?
Or did I just roll over and play dead
Join the middle class instead
Middle aged, middle class
Middle America
In the middle of the road
Still not knowing which way to go
Which seed to sow
Or which row to hoe
Standing on the edge of the dream
Staring in the face of ice cold reality
Still wishing I could run and hide
Everything changes except for the inside
But in the end
We’re judged not by possessions
But by our convictions
And when it’s over
Will I have the right to say
At least I tried
I don’t know, that’s a judgement call
And it’s late, and I’m tired
You decide
Everything changes except for the inside
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