Dreams are for children, not for adults,
They play for the joy, We work for results,
For someone must fund, those costumes and toys,
pink dresses for girls, toy guns for the boys,
Cowboys and Indians, and Hide and Go seek,
Keep counting to 50, and don't you dare peek,
We pay all the bills, work flesh to the bone,
So these little rascals, can explore the unknown,
Be pirates on ships, And Pilots on planes,
And everything else, until the day wanes,
And they must come in, for rest they will need,
For tomorrow's adventures, which all will exceed,
Those experienced today, For magic and play,
All in the dreams, where little ones lay,
We have not the heart to tell them the truth,
For children are precious, why trouble the youth?
About taxes and bills, and sadness and grief,
Why is adulthood so long, yet childhood so brief?
The burdens are ours, the adventures are theirs,
We stay up at night so they sleep with no fears,
For we are their heroes, and in us they trust,
So we'll love them and raise them as someone did us,
" 
) that got me in that zone...but now I've changed situations and have a hard time getting in that mood to write (I still write, but less). 
I wish a n*gga wood, like a tree in this b*tch
