Neon green on a spiky head
Deep dark rings under a peeking lid
Arms clutching over-sized pads
in the loving grasp of charcoal-stained hands
Lines of color like a warrior's streak
Left there merely from an itchy cheek
Classrooms without desk or chair
They crouch, they hover, they stand and stare
ART IS LONG AND TIME IS FLEETING
PUSH ON, PUSH ON! WASTE NOT WORTH SLEEPING!
This is the land of me
I've been away for so long I almost forgot how it be
Not that I feel young again
Not that I feel free
I just remember me.