There are days I look at my hands
and wonder if its what my grandpa saw.
Theres an old saying I read
with your eyes they shall see.
Even in the summer
the cold turned him red
and we all thought our fears were real.
There were a lot of beeps and hums
that I will hear again and again
there will always be time later,
even in the face of dying,
so we make dreams unattainable
goals unassailable
and venture out to get whats ours.
We are young,
and in seeing our youth
they are terrified.
So we scream and throw our fists.
I see the color forming
and think "this isn't the way its supposed to be."