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The Children Go On

To really tell my story would be indeed difficult
Because of all the different people involved.
Not that there is anything bad written
Itís just all terribly personal
Or maybe Iím just terribly possessive.
My life has been, if I go not a day longer,
Quite extraordinary.
The happy things have been written with great joy
The tragic things with great care
And the secrets have not been written at all
So that no one would ever be hurt by anything I would ever say.
That is not the purpose of my writing
My purpose is to document this incredible adventure
Before the years have become too clouded
To really remember what a truly incredible experience
My life has been.

Right now I live at the top of Old Queens Road and Franklin
And yes, I do have a movie star view
Some say I have everything -
I wonder sometimes if anyone ever really knows what everything is.

Have you got any heart at all?
Yes, and itís going to stay right where it is.
A musical western, and we all play the parts
But when the play is over, what do you do -
Become overnight casual friends?

You can lose your dreams or keep them
And the unridden horses ride away
And the sons of the prophets are deeply, deeply hurt
And your chances of returning to your past are gone.

Your heroes are dying,
The old ones, the great ones
The ones that you looked up to arenít looking so good any more
And the ones that are growing up are crazier than we were
But a war can always be won
Well if there is the sense in trying
Not much is really secret anymore
We all grow up and the veils come downÖ
But the children go on.


~ This isn't a song; it's Stevie reading something out loud. It sounds like a poem or a speech.