Mr. James Dean,
where do you go when the roads are closed?
No sign tells you where to go;
as all bad intentions lead to good roads,
the wildflowers never grow,
only dancing with prowess,
where are you dancing in the sorrow;
because time is the last thing that knows,
where do you stalk in the night;
cause I'm the last one there?
so bring down what the falls,
remember what calls,
cause I'm the last one who loses it all;
with every breakdown fall,
so create the call before I'm lost;
as I've been looking for you everywhere,
but who is always there;
only there to me?
cause I've never known as I've grown....