Hey guys, so I have a little spat of inspiration from the song ‘7 Years’ by Lukas Graham, so here we go!
As a child who was happy to play make believe alone in the back garden. My mama always told me “Go make yourself some friends or you’ll be lonely”. But I never did. Even today, I only have a few close friends. I like to think it’s because I have a good judgement of character. I don’t have time for fake people. I don’t have time for people who play games. I’m quite happy to accept individuals, but don’t come to me as a sheep. I don’t like people who follow the trends. Once I was seven years old, there was this girl who I chose, she didn’t know it then, but she was going to be stuck with me for the rest of her life. Best friends.
It was a big big world, but we thought we were bigger. We thought we were untouchable, we thought we were on top of the world. Nothing would ever trouble us. We pushed each other to the limits, we were learning quicker. Life isn’t black and white. It’s all grey and hazy. There is only a thin line between right and wrong. Between content and depressed. By eleven we were smoking herb and drinking burning liquor. Because life was hard, or so we thought. Children with drama. Who will I sit with at lunch? Why are my teachers evil?
Never rich so we were out to make that steady figure. I had this chore business, I would clean cars and mow the grass. Wash windows and deliver messages to the neighbours. It was stupid, but candy prices were going up, and a girl had to make a living.
When eleven years old, my daddy told me, “You don’t need a man to be happy. I will also provide for you”. That was before he got sick. Then it was a struggle just to put food on the table. A chore business couldn’t keep a family of four fed. An inch from being homeless, and he wasn’t getting better. Once I was eleven years old, life was hard again. But it wasn’t hard for me, it was hard because of me.
I always had that dream, like my daddy before me. It had forced me to start writing stories. In the cover of night, in the back of the class. My grades were slipping, and my mind was sprinting. I had found it, my passion. But there was one problem, something about glory just always seemed to bore me. I didn’t want to tell anyone that I was writing. I didn’t want to share my deepest, darkest thoughts with them. ‘Cause only those I really love will ever really know me.
Once I was twenty years old, my story got told. There it went, pieces of my soul in every paperback on the shelves. But that was only a dream. It would never be a reality, because being a writing was my dirty secret.
Before the morning sun, life was lonely I wrote it. The one I would finally share. I faced rejection. I faced mockery and ridicule. Once I was twenty years old, and I was afraid.
I only see my goals, I don’t believe in failure. Mama always told me “You only fail when you stop trying”. She had lead me to believe that the smallest voices could make it major. Thanks Ma, but it’s not that easy. In theory, Everest is tall, but the climb is so much more than it looks. I got my girl with me, she’s still in favour. She’s drawing me up that damn mountain. And if we don’t meet before I leave, I hope I’ll see you later.
Once I was twenty years old, my story got told. It wasn’t a dream anymore. Pages were flying around and I was writing about everything I saw before me. Life was good again. With passion and love. Once I was twenty years old.
Soon we’ll be thirty years old, our stories have been sold. We’ve traveled around the world and we’re still roaming. We’re climbing, and sprinting, and flying. To the moon, to the oceans, the highs and lows of the world, we’ve been there. Or we’ll be there soon.
Soon we’ll be thirty years old.
I’m still learning about life. There’s always curve balls. There’s always fear. But I brought children for him. I can tell them stories, and sing them to sleep. I can tell them mighty knights, and beautiful princesses. They will know that anything is possible if they just believe. They will know they can share their passion with the world. My girl is still with me, with children of her own who will learn the lessons too.
Soon I’ll be sixty years old, my daddy got sixty-one. Remember life, and then your life becomes a better one. When all else has left me, there is still burning passion. Sorties of hurt and heart break. Stories of real life and age. I just hope my children come and visit once or twice a month.
Soon I’ll be sixty years old, will I think the world is cold. Stories of blistering winters and flooding summers. Or will I have a lot of children who can warm me?
Soon I’ll be sixty years old.
Once I was seven years old, my mama told me, “Go make yourself some friends or you’ll be lonely”. I made one and found a passion. I found a life partner. But all out of only handful of people. Once I was seven years old, I thought life was hard, but honey it’s only going to get tougher. And so will you. Once I was seven years old.
Thanks for reading guys, I know it’s basically thus the lyrics, but I’m in a lecture, and I just needed to write. This has been burning at me for days now, so here it is. I’ll talk to you later,