They say I’m a boy with unusual vision
But they can’t see my dreams
I’m just a writer patiently waiting to die
I’m just a fantasy
My mind isn’t real
My thoughts are just make believe
I’m just a writer constantly wondering why
A toy to be played with by unknown confederates
Who thrive on the blood of the fools
The world could be ending
But they are still editing
The film of a life of the new
They say I’m a boy with unusual vision
I want my dreams to come true
I’m just a writer patiently waiting in line
I am one of the fools
I’m a piece of the action
I’m lonely and scared
My hair should turn grey in my prime
I lose my cool
My sense of direction
yet I’m still feeling fine
I talk to the ghosts inside of my soul
They tell me where to go
To find a way to find all the answers
I find them, and still I don’t know
Just a boy … Just a toy
Just a boy … Just a toy
They say I’m a boy with unusual vision
And then I am told I am blind
I’m just a writer patiently waiting to die
Before my time
A creature of sort that knows no better
Someone no one would want to find
I’m just a writer constantly wondering why
Wandering through life
Waiting to die
Carroll Bryant 