• When backyards were battlefields,
    when sticks were swords,
    when pillows were shields
    and boys were lords.
    Prancing in the rain,
    gazing to the sky.
    There was no pain,
    we were young and spry.

    then something takes place,
    you walk through a door.
    And without a trace,
    you are innocent no more.
    The world seems cold,
    and without a heart.
    Now your not so bold,
    as you were at the start.
    not quite so wild,
    as you were before.
    You're not a child,
    no, not anymore.