Saturdays Warrior
I take some paper on my hand,

And with a pencil draw a man

The dream of what I'd really, really like to be.

A man with courage in his brow,

Who;'s licked his doubts and fears somehow,

A warrior of great nobility.

But who am I? Just a wandering kid.

A cipher on the wall, not even brave at all!

And where's my dream like his that I would fight for?

And where's my cuase like his that I would die for?

And in his eyes he's not a afraid

Because you see he's got it made

The dream of what I'd really, really like to be.

A brave and noble, fiery youth.

Who's not afraid to die for truth.

Who's tall and straight, but best of all he's free!

But who am I? Such a fool as I am.

A cipher on the wall, not even brave at all!

And where's my dream like his that I would fight for?

And where's my cuase like his that I would die for?

But still the paper's ion my hand

And every day I sketch that man

Who knows the truth and what life's all about!

My conscience says I should be him

I guess I could at least begin

But chances are I'd probably strike out.