If I die, my only regret is that I never danced in the street when I had the impulse,
And I swear that I will go to hell and I will laugh all the way down.
So in time, let the ghost of me never age beyond this.
Too many important things have been forgotten,
All but the shadow of the emotions they brought with them.
“Carry on, carry on” I cry as I float away “carry on as a means to exist.”
Try not to shake me awake, for after all maturity is just another shade of childishness.
At times like this we fail to remember what things in us made golden flowers in the air.
So press, press on everything you wish to move.
At the end of the day someone shall place it back to wherever you found it.
What was yours was the journey, for triumph is nothing more than an illusion.