Somehow,
it seems the love I knew was always the most destructive kind.
Yesterday,
when I was young,
the taste of life was sweet as rain upon my tongue.
I teased at life as if it were a foolish game.
The way the evening breeze may tease the candle flame.
The thousand dreams I dreamed,
the splendid things I planned,
I always built to last on weakened,
shifting sand.
I lived by night
and shunned the naked light of day.
And only now I see how the time ran away.
Yesterday,
when I was young,
so many loveless songs were waiting to be sung.
So many wild
pleasures lay in store for me,
and so much pain my eyes refused to see.
I ran so fast,
the time and youth at last ran out.
I never stopped to think what life was all about.
And every
conversation that I can now recall
concerned itself with me and nothing else
at all.
The game of love I played
with arrogance and pride,
and every flame I lit to quickly, quickly
die.
The friends I made all somehow seemed to slip away,
and only now I'm left
alone to end the play.
Yesterday,
when I was young,
so many many songs were waiting to be sung.
So many wild pleasures lay in store for me,
and so much pain my eyes refused to see.
There are so many songs in me
that won't be sung.
I feel a bitter taste of tears upon my tongue.
The time has come for me to pay for yesterday,
when I was young.