Inside every old man
Sits a boy who
never grows up
His mind plays games
Some on its own
Some as he claims
his body’s on loan

Until the soul’s set free
Free to roam
Free to see
what can’t be seen
Free to own
what could never be

In this worn out world
With its pride in youth
Believing small lies
Denying real truth

Yet inside his tired eyes
Friends see the sparkle
Spontaneously recapturing
the famous and remarkable

Day after day life
Stages a new play
Night after night
He stores it away
Deep inside where
the young boy stays 

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