They tell the young to find ourselves,
But we're not missing.
We're just misunderstood.
Do we find ourselves with age,
Or do we lose ourselves?
We're told we're too young to understand,
But maybe they're too old.
We're freer when we're young.
Standards of an unaccepting society
Have yet to weave thick strands of wool over our eyes.
Fear, hatred, inhibitions are all taught,
Gained with age.
We're all in such a hurry to grow up,
But maybe we should endeavor to get young.
To go back to the self-assurance of youth,
And rediscover what we stood for then.
What we might stand for still
If only we hadn't listened to those who told us not to.
Maybe it's not that black and white;
Maybe it never is.
But that doesn't mean nothing's missing,
That we wouldn't benefit from a piece of ourselves we unwillingly left behind.
The best adults are still children on the inside.