You hand me books, paper, and pen
I write out goals once again
You stack my mind with daily news
Pushing logics into my views
I'm a poet, a writer, a drifter since birth
My mind in heaven and body on Earth
Perhaps I remain too idealistic in dreams
But dream I dream and scheme I scheme
You say with pain how much you care
Wishing you had as much hope to spare
You see what I see but your head turns away
Sorry, father, that's not how I play
Like a bull I'll run till blood swallows me whole
I have a heart, as well as a soul
Father, I'm a dreamer, changing the world
Even with my weapon: word per word
