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When the bulbs burn out, and all is free,
And the night is huddled at my feet,
I'm still chasing dreams relentlessly,
Even after all these years.
I don't need to pretend that I own my life.
Wisdom never plagued my younger days;
I'm finding out that it's hard to turn around.
So, ask about my plans, my childish ways,
And the boy who never did get out.
I don't need to pretend that I own my life.
I don't need to pretend that I know what's right.
