The boy

This is the song
About a little boy
Who soon grew old
But not wrong


He is just a Sunday son
He only has a Sunday Father
His life has no sun
But he still has his Mother


Have you ever heard
About this boy?
He plays with his life
Like he plays with a toy


He wakes up every morning
Thinking about the same
He's just a looser
And his life is a game


Once he heard his Father say:
'I only care about myself' (and I heard that too)
He didn't know what to do
He just wouldn't go through


What's inside his heart.
No one seems to know
Maybe it has fallen apart
Perhaps he wants to go...


He was never happy
There was always something missing
What it is, he doesn't know
But it's still missing

There's no future for him
in his own dreams
Doesn't he like life?
Well, so it seems....

And now I'll tell you something
That you did never see
That boy is dying
And that boy is me.