When I am old and have spent my soul
Building and destroying houses of sand,
Lightbulbs of solid ground,
I hope to come back to this town
And dream down some of these streets,
Speak with some of these trees once more.
For all that I have heard
The only think I know
I will be on that day is tired
But I pray to anything that
I will know some kind of truth
With as much innocent wisdom
As I first knew my mother’s face.