Secondhand

SECONDHAND
I can hear the future whispering like wind upon the beach.
It’s something I can almost grasp but still just out of reach.
And the past just nags and lags behind me, crying like a child
Of the far too little times I made you smile.

My father was an intellect who hit the bottle hard.
My mother saw herself entranced, an instrument of God.
And me, I’d search the tidal line for treasures in the sand.
Livin’ to reclaim the motherland…
Secondhand.

And I recall your face I saw reflected in the sea.
You swept me up before I felt it happening to me.
We flew so high, but all that flies will one day have to land.
Now you haunt me in my memoried nether land…
Ohhh, Secondhand.

Ohh…bridges burnin’.
Ohh…our pages turnin’.
And all those new and shiny dreams grow worn and rusted at the seams.
The junkman always has the upper hand…
Whoa, Secondhand.

Now some embrace the morning light, and some fear what’s to come,
But the footsteps of the past will set the pace that I will run.
I’ll live inside my memories, and I will make a stand
To live among the ruins, no-man’s-land…
To live among the ruins, no-man’s-land…
To live among the ruins…
Secondhand
Secondhand
Oh, Secondhand.